Story of an Encounter
by witchfingers
Summary: A premonitory dream sends you and Yami Malik back in time to Ancient Egypt, a world of magic, danger, and exotic desert adventures. But the clock ticks backwards and you must find the way to return... before it's too late.
1. bad dream?

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything :/ ... Wish I did, though._

**Brief note before reading: **This is one of the old self-insertion stories. But give it a shot ;)

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><p><strong>1<strong>

**Bad dream?**

**.**

Well, our story began as follows: as of late, you had been having strange dreams. In these dreams, you saw a figure darkened by thick shadows. It was the outline of a man, who held some sort of ceremonial dagger in one hand. He stood in the center of a chamber of hazy corners. The ceiling was supported by columns beautiful hieroglyphic carvings, ritual scenes were painted on the walls.

Under his breath, he murmured something. A spell, perhaps.

At first you let this dream pass off as that, a mere dream. But then it became more and more recurrent, it began to occupy your thoughts oftener until you felt you'd go insane from coming into that Egyptian-like chamber each time you closed your eyes.

You _had_ to do something about it.

Internet told you that there was this Museum of Ancient History in Domino city, and made you think that it could be helpful to go and take a look. Maybe you'd find something on Egypt that would ease your overworked subconscious.

It was about 7 pm when you grabbed a coat, your keys, and headed towards the Museum. While you were walking down the street, you thought about how weird it was that, though you'd never really cared much about Ancient Egypt and stuff, you were being so troubled by a dream related to it.

Lost in thought, you were soon at the Museum's entrance. It was a nice building, of straight lines and large glass windows, and painted in light sandy hues. You went in, nodding at the guard at the entrance as you came past him, and immediately noticed how empty and still the place was. It was a weekday, granted, not many people had time to have an escapade to the Museum (of all places!), but it was still almost not-normal that everything should be so... dead. Some of the lights were already off in some exhibitions, and following the instructions on a large map of the place in the main hall, you easily made your way to the Ancient Egypt area –which was closed, to your dismay. The entrance to the exhibition was a gloomy set of stairs that descended into the darkness, and across it hung a notice that read; "_New Kingdom under reconstruction. DO NOT ENTER_". However, as your eyes got accustomed to the dark, you could distinguish the faint flickering of a torch down the steps...

You weren't really sure of _when_you'd made your decision, but the next thing you knew was that you were going down the steps, carefully because you couldn't see much, and because you wanted to be as silent as possible- it would not do to get caught trespassing.

As you descended step by step, the faint amber light of the torch swept you into a deja vu of the dream that was haunting you: in the distant, surreal chamber you saw with your mind's eye, the man of the dagger is chanting a spell, curse, or something like that. His voice is deep and foreign, and although he's speaking in another tongue you seem to be able to understand him. As you snapped back into reality, the last lines he spoke lingered inside your head:

_Please hear my cry_

_Envelope the desert with your glow_

_Winged Dragon of Ra..._

Confused, you got to the end of the flight of stairs, to be greeted by an otherwordly sight. The exhibition was lit by torches fastened to the stone walls, and all around you you saw the dancing shadows the objects in display projected. The feeling of peace it gave you was soon enough transformed into opression when your ears caught the faint tones of a human voice, a male voice, that came from an adjacent chamber to your left.

You tiptoed to its entrance and, hidden behind the threshold, peeped at the scene inside...

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

Well... This story has been alive for 7 years now. I originally published it in Quizilla under the name "Your encounter with Yami Malik". I found it lurking in my PC a couple of days ago, and decided to revamp it and repost it here, with a much nicer format and reader-friendly environment :P

Comments are really appreciated :) Stay fine!


	2. Torchlit chamber

Yami Malik =D

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><p><strong>2<strong>

**Torch-lit chamber**

It would be a warm scene, with the Egyptian columns and well-framed stone tablets, if it had not been for the person in the center of the chamber: his back to you, you could only see a black cloak that draped elegantly over his shoulders. Some folds revealed long, tanned arms of finely toned muscle, adorned with what seemed to be heavy gold bracelets. Wild tresses of ashy blond hair fell over his midnight-colored clothing, completing the eerie picture of the young man, in whom you instantly recognized the person from your dream.

This should have brought you relief, if not joy, but you were feeling nothing close to that. This stranger, who was chanting in low whispers, sent shivers harshly down your spine: somehow, you had the sensation of being a small, helpless thing trembling in front of the fiercest predator. And you had not even seen his _face_.

A little voice inside your head wisely told you to get out while you could, forget all the mumbo-jumbo about your dream that your mind had been fabricating and rent a National Geographic documentary to watch at home with some popcorn, inside your bed, _safe_.

But destiny had something else in store for you.

You'd not even began turning around to leave, when you realised he'd raised his voice and you could actually make out what he was saying. It went more or less like, "Hells, it could be even possible. Why in the name of Anubis can't I remember that damned spell?"

Had he just said... spell? Glued to your spot, you couldn't help but listen, and there and then, he spoke the first lines of the chant... the same chant you'd heard in your dreams.

It was only natural for you to pick up where he'd left...

"_Envelop the desert with your glow..._"

Glow, glow glow... the echo took your voice deep into the stone walls, and your blood froze at that very moment. You shut your eyes tightly and strove to remember a prayer, but the next thing you were aware of, was that a cold blade was pressing against your throat and a pair of eyes were piercing into yours. You'd never seen such eyes. A faded hue of lavender, with no light in them whatsoever and thick black kohl lines around them, of a distinctive Egyptian style. His mouth was thin and his nose was sharp, but you took no notice of that- only of his preternatural eyes, and of the terror you felt in his presence.

.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

**For your entertainment, I provide a brief description of your character in this story. Take it or leave it, as you feel most comfortable ;)**

Your name is Khemet. You're 17, have long hair and clear eyes.

You like to think you're not the same as everybody else, but there's really not something special that could tell you apart from the girl next door.

Hanging out all the time around people isn't your thing -you're not worried about not having many friends, you don't care much about relationships and going out with guys.

You like to read, and you play some basic Duel Monsters only because it's all the rage at the moment, and the designs on the cards and the holographs are pretty.

And you're really absent-minded, which is your quirk par excellence.

... And that's about it.

.

.

Aaaand, of course, thanks for reading! Comments, suggestions, everything is most welcome! =)


	3. Die is cast

And you're standing face to face and...

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><p><strong>3<strong>

**Die is cast**

Your breath was frozen somewhere inside your throat, maybe right behind the place where the blade blazed cold and made you tremble in fear.

The young man evaluated you for a while, his glare was void and dangerous, and finally he spoke, with a voice already too familiar to you. "So, what were you doing, trespassing into this area?" he asked, and the unpleasant smirk tugging at his lips suggested he was not expecting an answer.

He lowered the knife to rest it against your collarbone, maybe he thought it was less threatening that way? You were still scared witless.

"So, my dear, what were you saying a moment ago?" his eyes were unphased and his smirk remained serene, but there was so much threat in the edge of his words that you couldn't bring yourself to answer. There was something about him, call it his aura if you will, that was driving you mad with terror.

"Hmm?" he insisted suavely, tracing your clavicle with the tip of the knife, and then running it upwards, up your throat and chin and lips, which he made part slightly open and waited.

"I... eh..." your lower lip brushed against the blade, began to bleed and crimsoned the iron. He smirked once again.

"I dreamt about it," you said slowly, licking your bleeding lower lip. The taste of blood rekindled your never-gone irrational fear. "You saying those words... "

"And they were...?" he offered suavely, noxiously.

You gasped profoundly, apparently you'd been holding your breath in an unhealthy way, all the way fighting back tears of I-want-to-run-away-but-can't.

"_Please hear my cry..._

_Envelope the desert with your glow..._

_Winged Dragon of Ra..."_

He closed his eyes and memorized the words, in those milliseconds of calm you tried to steady yourself and grow out of your dread. In this last aspect you didn't succeed.

Your back hit the cool stone wall when you inched backwards, and sensing your movement, he opened his eyes and smirked evilly, which seemed to confirm your worst suspicions. He intended to kill you. You didn't know more than that, but you knew it for a fact, something in your gut told you as much.

"Well, my dear, it is a geat thing you came to me tonight," he said in his low voice. He raised the knife, brought it from your cheek to his lips, and licked your blood off it.

"You would be pretty too," he said in an evil-set sneer, "but now, it's darkness for you..."

He abruptly turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes squinted and his demeanour changed, and he delivered a last glare at you, one promising premature death, and slipped into the shadows.

Only then, you became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps.

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Thanks for reading! Now leave a lovely review to know at least I'm on an acceptable track?


	4. An Egyptian man

Out of nowhere came...

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><p><strong>4<strong>

**An Egyptian man**

The footsteps became more defined as they drew closer, but fear had gotten the best of you, and you could imagine no saviour in this newcomer. You would have hidden behind some column or tablet, but the strong emotions of the last minutes had strained you more than you would have guessed, and your knees buckled and you fell on a heap to the ground.

"Malik? Master Malik?" you hear the new voice call, and a new light, also a torch, danced in the other chamber. You remained there, small and silent, hoping with all the fervour in your heart that he'll pass you by without seeing you, and that you'll be able to go home and turn on the heaviest music you can find and think of nothing.

But that was not your luck, and this other man found you soon enough, with your cheeks tear-stained and lower lip bleeding.

His alarmed face set you at ease, however. "Are you hurt, miss?" he asked with kindness, and crouched to be eye-level with you. You shook your head slowly, as if to say _no, I'm fine_.

He frowned deeply. "Why would you be here, like this, miss? Let me walk you out of this place. No one should be here, no... much less if..." his voice trailed off as he helped you up. He offered you his arm and led you upstairs, and you didn't know if he'd noticed how shaken you were.

Once you were safely under the artificial lights of the main hall, you could see your _saviour_ clearly now- he was also young, his head was shaven except for a thin ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore dark clothing, and half of his face was heavily tattooed with hieroglyphics. Another Egyptian person, you guessed. "Was anyone down there, miss?" he inquired, his voice all politeness and concern.

A shiver involuntarily shook you. "Y-yes," you said shortly, speaking for the first time, "There was this guy... blonde, suntanned just like you..."

" I see..." His brow furrowed, and his clear amber eyes showed nothing but genuine worry. "Deep voice, eyes without shine?" he asked.

You nodded, the recollection of that foreignly familiar face both scaring you and intriguing you.

You heard the man sigh gravely, sorrow washing all over his face. "Yami Malik..." you heard him say, "I wish there was something I could do..."

You couldn't even begin to understand what went on. He'd called some _Malik_ when down in the exhibition, and now _Yami Malik_? A dark Malik? How was that? Anyway you were not someone to pry into matters that should not concern you, so you kept your curiosity in your pocket, so to say.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" the man offered, "My name is Rishid, also. Forgive my manners please, miss." And he bowed slightly.

"Oh, no, please Rishid, do not mind me. I'm Khemet. I'd thank you for the tea, but I sincerely wish I were home now..."

He cracked a smile, that suddenly was gone when he decided to ask you; "Miss Khemet, did you and this young man happen to talk?"

"Y-yes..." you replied, "he wanted to know... well... I... had a dream the other night and he asked me about it..."

He lifted his eyebrows, in, was it alarm? "A dream?"

"Something about... a dragon of Ra I think. Now I can't remember..." and it was true. Your memory had become a haze again. "I... he would kill me."

"He might as well have..." you heard Rishid say under his breath, and a shiver streamed down your back again. The man bowed again towards you, and told you to go home as soon as you could, and be very careful. "I am sorry, miss, but I must find master Malik now," he explained, his voice quavering faintly. You nodded and thanked him, and then thanked him again.

He had saved your life.

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: A bit late, but here. So, how's you liking it? Virtual hug!


	5. A darkness

Chapter 5!

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><p><strong>5<strong>

**A darkness**

What time is it, already? You wondered as you left the museum behind. The guard had been gone as you exited, you noticed, also that the main entrance was closed and all the lights were out. Your cellphone said it was quarter past ten pm, you'd been in there only a couple of hours- it had felt like a lifetime to you.

The streets were deserted and quiet as you strode back home. It was early spring, so the night air was chilly and it only smelled like dry trees, the place was full of those because you were taking the shortcut home, right through the cemetery. Sensible girl, huh? Just leaving behind a mortal danger to hop into another one, perhaps? But you couldn't see a danger in shortcutting past graves and mausoleums- you'd done it half of your life, because the cemetery in Domino city was just... in the way of everything. It was too oddly placed, right in almost the citycentre, and at times it was even more dangerous to walk around it than through it.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you crossed the entrance gates and walked swiftly through the narrow lane that was bordered with dewy grass, focusing only on your steps and their reverberations against the old stone buildings around you. The place was poorly lit by some lampposts that gave off an eerie, whiteish glow, and only served to make the rising fog creepier than it already was, by giving it a violet tint. You tried to close your eyes for some seconds, to shoo the preternatural landscape that was starting to get its claws into you, but only succeeded in evoking a torch-lit chamber, half dreamish, half real, and the blond Egyptian's low voice chanting, and his dreadfully fascinating eyes... Wait two seconds on Earth, _fascinating_? Anyway, that vision filled you with fear once again and you quickened your pace, only to trip on something and sorely fall face-front- you had not been paying attention to where you were going. Your keys fell out of your pocket and landed at your arm's reach with a painfully loud clatter that added to the cacophony of echoes that enveloped you at the moment. You retrieved them, but as you did, you noticed a hand stretched out towards you. Anyone, anything inside that place would have heard that racket your falling had caused...

You accepted the hand and stood weren't sure you liked the expression of scorn on the handsome features of the young man standing before you. He was taller than you, his eyes were dark, but his skin and his hair were really fair, whitish you'd say. His clothing was light-colored too. A curious object hung against his chest- some sort of oversized piece of jewellery. It made you think of some chamanic amulet, like a dreamcatcher made of ancient gold, but the eye of Horus beautifully carved in its center betrayed its Egyptian origins.

This immediately put you on guard, your eyes narrowed and your brow pursed and you took a step backwards. Egypt, again? It was all becoming too coincidental to be just your luck...

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Oh, it must be kind of ordinary to meet Yami Bakura in the graveyard if you live in Domino City :P

R&R?


	6. Eye of Horus

Chapter 6... you knew this was eventually going to happen ;)

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><p><strong>6<strong>

**Eye of Horus**

The young man looked barely older than you, and his smirk was unsupportable... but threatening. As he seemed to evaluate you, you recognised in his amulet a similar making to the knife that little time before had been pressed dangerously against your throat. Now that you thought about it, somewhere on its hilt there was an eye of Horus to be seen, a beautiful piece of metalwork as well. You swallowed, your throat felt dry and raspy.

"So," you heard this guy say, "Don't you know that graveyards get scary after dark?"

You hated his voice immediately.

"I always take this path," you told him, "It's been fine so far- would you let me through?"

"Don't you know a thing about spirits?"

You looked at him with puzzled eyes. Any other time you'd have shrugged and brushed past him, but not this time, not this night. This night, fear had wormed its way into your bones and made you jumpy.

"Not much, real people are so much worse than spirits anyway," you said, thinking all the while about the hellish blond Egyptian of the Museum...

"It sounds like you'd like to find out," he suggested in a malicious voice, and suddenly you saw how the fog rose to engulf him, thus making him stand out from the darkness. Some sort of void slowly began to expand behind him. You felt how the little hairs on your arms stood straight, and some cool air blew from behind you into that void...

"You know," he began conversationally, evidently taking pleasure in your petrified expression, "Spirits come and go between worlds," and he waved towards the ever-growing deepness behind him, the amulet that hung round his neck glowing slightly, and _floating_ inches away from his chest, "And they use the Shadow Realm as a... hall of passage. Would you like to try it? Who knows, you may even get out of it alive- a life-changing experience, if I might say..."

Dumbfounded, you stared at him. You were annoyed at his amusement, and scared by the foul air breathed out of that unnatural void. Could it be true, that it was an... interdimensional opening? What the hell?

"Why are all these things happening to me tonight?" you asked yourself in a frightened whisper.

He lifted an eyebrow and smirked, "All these things, hun?"

The threatening void pulsated, and a sickening miasma came out of it and made its way to your nostrils. You wrinkled your nose in disgust. "Some psycho tried to kill me earlier, with a thing like that amulet you have there. Now let me through, _please_, I believe you, okay? There are spirits and one should look out... please?"

You didn't expect him to slightly widen his eyes- but you knew he was doing a quick math, for his look changed readily, and a sly smile won over his lips.

"Fine," he said (you didn't expect that...!) and the void began stitching itself up, the violet miasma becoming a foggy thread that flowed around and into the curious Egyptian amulet. "You go to bed tonight," his smirk broadened, and your stomach told you he had the worst intentions in mind, "But humour me first, hun- why aren't you dead?"

Needless to say that you _didn't_ like his question. But apparently you weren't in a position in which you could just... _argue_ with this guy: he'd created that terrible void, sucked it back into his chamanic device... but he could call it out again and plunge you into it.

"I can't know," you said honestly, "He... I don't know, he was saying this spell and didn't remember it, but I'd dreamt about it, told him and when he was about to slice my throat open from ear to ear another guy came and he was gone. And here I am..."

He let out a loud laugh, an _evil_ laugh that made you wish you could hide, _anywhere_. "Right, well, isn't it funny," he said, mirth still fresh in his terrible voice, "So sunflower boy forgot how to call out his canary bird, ha ha ha..."

That, _that_ had sounded SO WEIRD, not to say it made absolutely no sense.

"Okay hun," the white-haired guy said, "Go home and dream of me," and he winked the most malefic wink you'd ever seen, and waved at you.

You found the strength to move your legs, waved badly at him and ran as if a horde of jackals were chasing you. Hey, it might even be true...

You ran and ran and got home, stripped off your clothes, jumped into your pyjamas and got inside the magical protection of your bed. There, then, you let out a heavy sigh. You were alone, your parents abroad in Paris, and the silence was both welcome and opressive. You fell asleep thinking of Egypt, picturing yourself in a light cotton dress in the pyramids, trying to chase away every new face you'd known that evening. But a pair of violet eyes followed you even into your sweet dreams, and as you fell asleep, you were again in a torch-lit chamber, again, running for your life...

The next morning was hellish. So was the following, and the following. A couple of days passed, and you dreaded both falling asleep to the dreams of your blond Egyptian, and waking up to the damned shrill ringing of the alarm clock.

oOo

That morning, the clock rang and rang, and you got up with a head-splitting headache, covered in cold sweat. You sweared you wouldn't have any trouble in starting to hate anything with a hieroglyphic on it...

You got into your clothes and grabbed the first thing to eat you found in your fridge- you hadn't eaten the previous night so you were really hungry, and you had a loooong day ahead: it was Kaiba's big tournament day, and you were going to go Duel-Monsters-sightseeing. Being absentminded as you were, you wouldn't have known about the tournament if it weren't for some guys in your school, who were obsessed players that always went to those things. You'd overheard something in a break...

You ran to the place, only to find the event took place in some kind of... zeppelin? Anyway, though you were there out of curiosity, you managed to get onto the giant thing... well, only because you'd been there early.

_A tall woman with gentle eyes, painted black around with thick Egyptian kohl, looked at you from a high window as you carefreely boarded the zepellin. She thought about how curious fate was... even for her, she would always be surprised that things actually happened as the Millenium Tauk showed. _

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: I've been doing some research, and I came to know that Eye of Ra = Eye of Horus = Wdjat. What I'm not sure of, is whether it is possible to say "the Eye of Wdjat", or Wedjat- does anyone of you know?

BTW- Finally some action! Finally a chapter of a decent length! =D Cheers! I just _love_ to write Yami Bakura... so taunting and mocking and... 3 He's smooth to write, can't say it any different way :) Yami Malik isn't so easyyyyyyyyyyy... am I keeping them In Character, btw?

Lots of love! R&R makes everything better and helps me feed the Winged Dragon of Ra =D


	7. Something to it

You know... we always thought there was...

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><p><strong>7<strong>

**Something to it**

Everything was so weird, and that place was so large... And you didn't notice the mistake you'd made until you realized that the zeppelin wasn't just for show, that it was actually _taking off_... with you on it! When you found a security guard and asked him what the deal was, he looked at you like you'd grown another head (how come you didn't know _a thing_ about SUCH a tournament?), and told you that no, the zeppelin wouldn't be landing until the duels were over... Well, you shrugged. Lucky you that no one was waiting you at home- the worst that could happen was that you could need a change of clothes. And you'd even brought a bag with a sweater inside in case it got chilly. Whatever.

You snuck into an empty room and unofficially claimed it as yours. It had a couple of beds more, but no one seemed to be appointed to them, or however the heck people dealt with rooms, so it was you alone there. It was all beyond insane... you'd only meant to peacefully watch a couple of duels in the sidelines, and then, ended up flying over God knew where. As you lay on the bed, which was unsuspectedly comfy, you decided the best you could do was explore the place to try to find some familiar face. That Yugi guy would be coming, you guessed, and maybe even Joey from Art classes.

You stretched out one last time and hopped on your feet. "Well," you said to yourself, "come on. It's all been weird, but it can't go on like that forever, eh?" So you stormed out of the room, ready to go on the quest of your life...

...And nothing of the sort happened, of course, because you slammed into someone who was just walking past at the same time.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," you said quickly, rubbing your forehead in the spot where you'd hit the poor person.

"Do not worry, miss Khemet," a familiar voice spoke.

Familiar?

Oh, Rishid... wait? Rishid? Indeed, the man from the Museum looked kindly at you. He wore a dark, heavy cloak that partially covered his face, but his amber eyes stood out in a peculiar way, almost feline.

The white corridor is deserted- it must be because a duel was going on, you heard it from the loudspeakers some half an hour past.

"I would've never thought I'd find you here," you commented, then added, "I think I didn't thank you enough the other day..."

He smiled slowly, sternly. "I wish I could be thanked. But I'm not able to help master Malik..."

Malik...

That name had been echoing in your head, along with the fear (and curiosity) it brought. Malik? It was all too confusing for you, but the thing was, the letters of his name were stitched to your subconscious, not in a pleasant way, mind you. Your lips moved on their own to silently form the words _Yami Malik._

Rishid must have taken notice of your unsettled face, and he must have read your lips too. His own lips pursed, and his brow creased, and you saw too how he was having an inner battle. You didn't wholly like to see this otherwise collected man with such an expression on his face. It was only then that you noticed that from his belt loop hung that... ceremonial knife with the Eye of Horus that this Yami Malik person had meant to kill you with. Fear nested in your heart again, and you lost any sense of safety you could have recovered when you discovered you were flying on a large blimp far away from people who meant you evil.

"Miss," he finally said, almost in a whisper, "I would like you to meet my master. He is really a kind person, it's just... he's not been quite himself as of lately."

You raised your eyebrows. "_Are you serious?_" you thought, "_I had enough of him only last time..._"

"Also, for the time being, I would have you call me Malik instead of Rishid... it's some type of... roleplay between me and my master. He goes by Namu during the tournament."

Gullible you didn't suspect any kind of dirty game, just shrugged it off as some quirk of these Egyptians. "Fine by me," you said nonchalantly, though not unfriendly. Absolutely unaware that you had become some sort of accomplice to a non-saint plan.

You chewed on your inner lip for some seconds, wondering whether you should ask him what he'd meant by _Yami_ Malik, why he'd winced like he had when you'd inadvertently mouthed the name. So you asked him.

He evaded the answer, by repeating, "you should meet my master, then he might tell you himself..."

"Okay," you told him, "I'd talk to him... he won't try to kill me again, will he?"

Rishid shook his head no, with great sadness distorting his features. "It was not master Malik you met that day..." he whispered enigmatically, his voice so forlorn it sort of pained you too.

"If you'll be here, I'll tell him to knock your door."

You were going out when you met... crashed against Rishid, but you decided this might be more important than what you were going to do, so...

"All right, I'll be waiting for him."

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: My Internet connection was deadd... but thanks to some computer technician who was actually a graduate from Oriental Studies and knew Chinese and Ancient Sumerian, the problem was fixed. Ho! Not just -anyone- fixes my dear computer! (which, btw, is called Horus ;) )

R&R! Pleeeease or the Winged Dragon of Ra will eat me ;_;


	8. into the opera house

And now, we're going...

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><p><strong>8<strong>

**into the opera house.**

Three times he knocked until you opened the door. You couldn't say you weren't scared; it was a temerity to open the door to a murderous stranger only because another stranger had told you it would be safe. This crossed your mind as the door opened swiftly, and you came face to face with a handsome young man.

"Hey..." he said, not meekly, but almost, "I'm Malik... you must be Khemet?"

You nodded.

"It's a pretty name," he said, "Very Egyptian, huh?"

"Yeah, ehm, my grandmother... Never met her, she was called like that too..."

"Come, let's go outside, the sun's about to go down..."

You followed Malik through a series of corridors and turns, until you came to a large open space that seemed to be on top of the zeppelin. It had a wonderful view of the ocean below, that seemed to have a steely shine in the late afternoon light. It was very pretty.

You walked to a secluded corner by the tall railing that prevented anyone from falling to the open space beneath, and as you walked you studied him. He was taller than you, wore his sandy blond hair in a stylish cut, long, barely past his shoulders. His skin had a very healthy suntan that screamed of tropical heat and Arab ascendence, and his lilac eyes sported a lively spark, now obscured by a pensive look.

The kohl lines around his eyes, and the golden jewellery he wore, however, brought back the image of features you feared with your life. It was very strange- like looking at Yami Malik, without it actually being him. Also, this Malik didn't make you feel threatened, as if your lungs lacked air. The atmosphere around him was easy, and you were thankful for that.

"Look, ehm, Khemet," he said, gaze lost in the distant horizon, "Rishid told me about the other day in the Museum. He was really intent on me talking to you. I _must_ apologize to you, too."

He turned to look at you, with a slight frown. "You see... this world we live in is much more magical than most people ever get to know..."

And then he told you the most fantastic story you would ever hear in your entire life, because nothing you heard after that could be called a story anymore...

He told you about Ancient Egypt, about old games that weren't quite such and something called the _Millenium Items, _about a nameless pharaoh and the need to protect his memories for the moment he returned. He said that the time for the return of that pharaoh had come, he already lived in his reincarnation, and then Malik's face contorted in anger, and he told you that this had ruined his life and the lives of his family, because they were a clan of Tomb Keepers destined since thousands of years to serve him. Then he told you of a darkness that lived inside his heart that he had no control over, this... shadowy other-Malik having been the one to almost kill you.

Fantastic was too shallow to call Malik's story. You looked at him with doubt plastered on your face. You weren't going to discriminate him if he just admitted he was schizophrenic and had forgotten his medication that night...

Wanting to change topics, you asked him about the object that hung from his belt loop- it was that infamous knife again, the one with the Eye of Horus.

Barely smirking, he said, "Oh, this- well, it's one of the Millenium Items; the Millenium Rod. But this is the real one, Rishid's is just a replica."

"What is it for?" you asked.

"Oh well, it does stuff," he said, evasively, "But it doesn't do much when you don't have a special connection to it- try, hold it."

You wondered why, if it was so special, he was letting you hold it just like that. Besides, you... well, you had some feeling of alarm about it. But held it nonetheless. Your first touch was electric, or something like that, it sent shivers of an unknown kind down your arm.

Deciding it was a more or less normal and decent piece of Ancient Egyptian gold, you were handing it back to Malik when a pair of voices surged out of nowhere and Yugi Motou's unmistakable silhouette came upon you two.

"Hide it," Malik hissed under his breath, and so you did, you slid it into your bag. You and him exchanged uneasy looks. Him because _you_ had the epicenter of his well-threaded plan inside your bag, and you, because you were beginning to feel you were being dragged into some plot you didn't have the intention of partaking in.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Thanks guys for the support! For the wonderful reviews and comments :) Keep them coming...!

Aaaaaaand here we've got Malik! Is he in character? That's one of my greatest fears... not keeping the guys in character.

Suggestions?


	9. Treasure chest

In which a plain school bag turns into a...

* * *

><p><strong>9<strong>

**Treasure chest**

"Hey," Yugi greeted.

Weird, you thought, you remembered him to be shorter and rounder and you would have sworn his voice was higher-pitched. You shrugged it off, instead, greeted him back.

"How are you doing, Yugi?" Malik asked, and you discovered a note of… something in his voice. Something not frank.

"All well, Namu. Who is the lovely lady?" he asked, facing you with a kind smile.

"Khemet… I'm Khemet," you said, bowing slightly, "We might have crossed at school, at break, sometime…"

He oh-ed. "Don't mind me, I'm absent-minded," he said, you cracked a smile. "Yeah, me too, no problem."

"The next duel's about to begin, Namu, you're on- come?" Yugi said.

'Namu' shrugged and smiled lazily. "Right. Oh Khemet, can I drop by your room later?"

Of course, you had that precious amulet-knife of his in your bag.

"Yeah, I'll be there," you told him. And both of them were gone.

And you had this Millennium Rod inside your bag.

Life was so weird… you hoped all Malik had told you were just his crazy stories. They had to be- the reincarnation of a pharaoh, magical artifacts and Duel Monsters live? Oh, come on.

_XXX_

The halls were empty as you made your way back to your room. Truth be told, you were a bit lost. And so much was going on inside your head. Magic, magic, oh, but magic didn't exist...! No, it didn't, but then again you'd met a spellchanter, a fiend that almost sent you to another dimension, and heard the wondrous story of an Egyptian day of Reckoning...

You slowly walked through another hall, one with comfy sofas and large windows that let the sky into the room. It was a pretty sight, and you were heading to one of the sofas to sit down and sort out your thoughts, when you noticed there was someone else there, looking out of the window.

You froze at the familiar white tresses, light clothing and dark eyes, and your breath got trapped inside your throat.

The young man noticed you as well and turned to face you. But wouldn't it be a surprise? It wasn't the fearsome guy you'd encountered in the graveyard. They might have looked alike, but...

He caught you staring.

"Is everything fine, miss?" he asked you. His voice rang kind and even- softly masculine, and polar opposite to the voice of the other guy.

"Oh, yes, I only, eh..." but your eyes drifted around his frame, and immediately spotted _that_ amulet- the dreamcatcher-like pendant with the Eye of Horus. "Do I know you?" you asked bluntly.

"Me?" he repeated. "No, I don't think so... is everything all right?" He frowned.

"It wasn't you in the graveyard the other night," you stated, more to yourself than for him to listen. He heard you, anyway, and cringed faintly.

All of a sudden his eyes had changed.

"My my," he said, and his voice was different this time too, this was a voice you recognized: the person before you was now indeed the guy from the graveyard. What on Earth...?

You heard a strong wind picking up outside the blimp.

"Still alive, I see? But not for long I'd guess, isn't Malik's darkness around here?" he asked you. He was treating you as if you knew or understood way more than you actually did. You kept quiet.

"Come, sit here hun," he smirked at you, patting the sofa next to him. You did as he said, but kept at a reasonable distance from him.

"It was just my luck," you mused, as he looked at you as if you were the most ridiculous and amusing thing on planet Earth.

"Absolutely your luck, little mortal. But haven't you thought about how... peculiar it is that you get in dreams the spell to wake the Winged Dragon of Ra?"

Only then it occurred to you that he might be talking about those rare God cards that some people spoke of.

"You mean the card?" you asked him, inevitably falling prey to his disgusting self-satisfied smirk,

"There goes a lightbulb," he said, "Yes, the God card. It can only be used if you chant that spell that good ol' sunflower boy likes to forget... One wonders how come the condensation of everything evil in the human heart forgets such a thing, but well, it can happen to any Yami. We all came from something human, in the end."

He smirked at you, as if you'd understood a word he'd just said. No, it'd all been riddles to you.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the delay in updating... I'm having some exams and well... they leech my life/time out of me. I'm sorry for the shortness of this chappy... I'll make it up to you, I promise!

Keep being wonderful and giving me your opinion :)


	10. Equator

A stalemate or an...

* * *

><p><strong>10<strong>

**Equator**

_"...but well, it can happen to any Yami. We all came from something human, in the end."_

You kept twirling around his words. Yami, that word, there it was again.

"Yami? What do you mean? What's your name anyway?" you said.

He smirked again. "We're darknesses. I am Yami Bakura hun, at your service. Bakura alone for friends," and he chuckled acridly.

You sighed, and noticed that the amulet he wore around his neck was floating in a terribly non-normal way, and its five dangling pointers were positioned together towards your bag.

"What's the thing around your neck? Why is it floating like that?" you asked, freaked.

"For someone who collects near-death experiences, you ask too many questions," he answered annoyed, "This is the Millenium Ring, and it points so, because probably..."

He swiftly reached for your bag, and extracted the Millenium Rod, "... probably there's a Millenium Rod inside this thing. Now how come you have it, hun?"

His sneer made your stomach churn. "Stealing stuff? You got the hang of it quite easily," he commented noxiously.

"Not quite, not stealing," you said steely, fed up with his taunting you. Besides, if he didn't mean you any harm at the moment, it was probably safe to leave while you still could.

"Here, have it back," he said, handing it to you with an expression of infinite amusement, "And you say hello to your sunflower boy for me."

You gritted your teeth at his choice of words, snatched the knife from his grasp and left as quickly as you could. As you entered the corridor, you heard him cackle. "_It is not time yet for me to deal with the Rod_", Bakura was thinking.

**xxx**

The next morning you had breakfast with many of the duelists in one of the large halls. There you could chat a bit and have some decent human contact- Joey from Art class was there, thankfully, and though he wasn't THE one friend in your life, well, at least he was a familiar face. Odd little Yugi was there too, and some friends of them who seemed easy going enough. And creepy Bakura, who was called Ryou by this gang, and who seemed to have reverted to the gentle teen you'd crossed a few words with the previous day (you'd ceased to try to understand). Ryou was an interesting fellow, and in the little chat you made, you found him the most agreeable of them all. Which was weird.

Malik, or 'Namu' as they called him, wasn't there that morning- it made you a bit anxious, because he had not showed up last evening to reclaim the Rod, and you frankly didn't like to carry it around the place inside your bag all the time...

**xxx**

You'd not meant to end up where you ended up. You'd wanted to go to a nice balcony the guys had been speaking of during breakfast, that had a lot of lush plants, was sheltered from the wind, and overlooked the ocean. But you came again to that platform at the top of the zeppelin, where you'd been with Malik the day before.

Malik was there again, leaning against the railing, looking out to the ocean.

Malik...

No, it wasn't Malik. His ashy hair blew wildly in the morning breeze, and the pale sun gave him a leonine appearance. He was a handsome young man, although his sneer as he pressed the knife against your throat had haunted your dreams night after night.

He was very handsome... Yami Malik. Though you knew you had to run away from that place before he spotted you, your feet seemed to be glued to the ground. He was not like Bakura, who was just toying around with everything (or so it seemed to you). You knew that he'd dispose of you were he to be given the chance, you had to get away.

He turned round, for a fraction of a second your eyes met his and your heart skipped a beat. Damned hormones. But then, as he slowly came up, an intense fear took over you, and you knew that running alone wasn't going to get you out of that one. You could tell it from the maleficent glint in his eye.

"Again in the way, my dear," he said in his rich, deep voice. A drift of wind brought to you his earthen scent, it was like nothing you'd ever smelt before.

Gathering up all your courage, you managed to say, "Yami Malik, isn't it?"

He quirked an eyebrow.

"I- I mean you well, stop this!"

He laughed evilly in your face. "Thanks for the intentions," he said, somewhat humoured, "But you saw too much."

You took a step backwards- "I have your Millenium Rod. You've been looking for it... haven't you?" It seemed to work, he raised his eyebrows, not amused any more.

"We could strike a deal... I give it to you and we're cool..."

He chuckled. "As you wish, my dear." He'd sounded SO insincere.

Slowly, you reached for your bag and fished the Rod. His narrowed eyes followed every movement you made and evaluated you.

And you... were starting to believe what the other Malik had told you. About all the magic and stuff- but it scared you even more. Because if you gave Yami Malik that Item you had, wouldn't he use it for some evil purpose, if it was truly as powerful as Malik'd said?

But then you grew a suicidal idea. It might not save the world, but maybe it could give you some seconds to run for it. Grabbing the Rod, you swung it as strongly as you could in the opposite direction from your escape route.

His eyes narrowed and he swore at you in some foreign language, Arab perhaps? Ancient Egyptian?

You ran into the building and got lost in a maze of corridors, safely away from Yami Malik...

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Eeeey! It's been long- Internet trouble. Yeah.

There's something I've forgotten to say, but it's not late at all to say it: I'm taking my own... director's cut of Battle Ship, with an altered timeline: for example, the Noah Arc won't be happening. But go along with me, for the sake of the plot.

So... what did you think of Yami Malik? Suggestions? Comments?


	11. Isis

A mysterious woman known as...

* * *

><p><strong>11<strong>

**Isis**

You locked yourself up in your room and spent the whole day lying on your bed or looking at the clear sky out of the window. You'd have gone out, but fear wouldn't let you as it didn't let you grow bored. You had too much to think and tremble about. It wasn't the proudest thing you were of, hiding like that, but it was too much sudden foreignness around you.

It was already dark outside when you ventured into the painfully silent corridor- where was everyone, anyway? Your stomach rumbled in hunger, and you sought a hall where you could at least have some coffee. What you found, or caught, was a faint rumor of voices coming from a trap door that led to the open platform on top of the blimp. A small group of people whispered some comments- they appeared to be watching something furtively. You came closer to them, and asked this girl Tea you had talked to earlier in the morning about what was going on.

"It's some sort of duel," she said in your ear, her voice quavering slightly, "The guys say it's a shadow duel... don't you see all that fog? Jeez... don't you feel tense too? Isn't it freezing here?"

The expressions on everyone's faces were rather disencouraging. Whatever they were looking at seemed to have their nerves standing on edge, even Yugi some steps to your right, who looked dangerously pale.

You peeped at the duel too, and caught some glimpses of it, through the fog. You saw Bakura standing at his ease, the living shadows toying with his hair and clothes like a pet would with its owner. Some flecks of violet fog made their way to you and percolated every crevice you could have. They actually seemed alive, they actually seemed to be touching you, everywhere, those terrible shadows- and then Yami Bakura looked your way and smirked, though you suspected you'd been the only one to see it. It made you think that he might be somehow connected to those shadows, use them as extensions of himself, in some way: the idea disgusted you and you shooed the thick fog away, and Bakura laughed slightly in the distance as if you'd just... tickled him?

Ah, how sick.

You then looked to Bakura's opponent- should you have guessed it would be no other than Yami Malik? He also crossed eyes briefly with you and frowned faintly (at this, Bakura smirked inwardly, he was making sense out of what he was seeing, apparently.)

But then their duel resumed as if nothing had ever happened- Yugi and the others hadn't seemed to notice the exchange of looks that had happened between the three of you.

Yami Malik smirked an 'oh, I'm so evil' smirk, and Bakura scowled- some turn taken wrongly, you guessed; and only at that moment you realized that Malik, the normal one, was transparently floating next to Bakura as if it were something he did on a regular basis...

You gritted your teeth- it was that, and the grim atmosphere, and the tension and foulness in the air that made you look as disgusted as the other onlookers. You understood their silence and graveness now.

You left when you saw Bakura lose, as did the other ones. It was clear no one wanted to be around when the shadows cleared off and Yami Malik alone emerged out of them- Bakura had begun to turn into fog and shadow himself as he lost, but he didn't look one bit distressed. Just a bit narked, if that.

"That lot freaks me out," a guy with some shark fin for a hair commented, then a redheaded girl nodded energetically and Tea chewed on her lower lip.

Joey patted Yugi's back. "I'm so glad we have Yugi on our side," he said, and that made most of them crack a smile. You went with them to (finally) grab something to eat.

"You're a quiet thing," Joey commented, but you only shrugged.

"It's all so weird, I lost track of everything," you muttered, and then stayed silent. They'd exchanged uneasy looks at that, well, it could be normal for them to think about Yamis and shadow games and magic and stuff- but for any other person it would be quite a predicament.

**xxx**

A woman swayed into the room. You weren't the first to see her, the guys were already greeting her and inviting her to join you for coffee. She agreed in a lovely contralto voice, then they introduced you to her, Isis Ishtar, who looked oddly familiar, was it because she was also Egyptian? Or rather, because she had Malik's very eyes, only a deep shade of blue?

"Khemet..." she repeated your name after you'd told her, and locked her pensive eyes with yours. "It's indeed a pleasure to finally meet you."

You were sure _that_ had sounded strange to everyone, not only you. _Finally_? What on Earth? They all seemed to begin to regard you in a very different light after Isis' words, but it changed nothing to you.

Later, the group got dispersed as each of you went to a different room; and you discovered you slept only a couple of rooms away from one of the girls, whose name you failed to remember.

You had only closed your door when somebody knocked. It was a soft rapping that didn't put on guard, and when you opened the door to Isis Ishtar, you found that you had expected it to be her. Because of what she'd said earlier. She'd been studying you as she sipped her coffee, although you'd pretended not to notice it.

You followed her into a balcony- it was probably the one you had been looking for the previous day; with lush plants hiding the walls from view, making you feel as if you were in a tropical garden. There were also a couple of quaint chairs made of wrought iron painted white and a matching table. Both of you took a seat there, and the night breeze played with your hair for a while until she spoke.

"I _am_ sorry to have come to your like this, Khemet," Isis said. You itched to ask her why she claimed to have heard of you, but decided to stay put and just listen.

"It's okay," you said smally, "You make me- curious."

She looked out at the stars. "My brother told me of you, but I had seen you before..." She seemed to be unsure of how to go on.

"Your brother? Malik?" you ventured- and... seen you before? Like, walked past you on the street?

Isis nodded. "Malik, yes. But the Tauk brought your face to me one day..." She read your look, evidently, because she explained that she was the holder of the Millennium Tauk, that let her see the future...

Okay, so it was believing her as you'd come to believe in shadow games, or clam up in denial and think they were all loonies around you. You believed her for the time being.

"You saw my future...?" you asked her, your head swaying in confusion.

"Only so much..." she shook her head- "It's too fantastic, not even I could make sense of what I saw."

"_So why are you come to tell me all this if you yourself don't believe it?_" you mused.

"We say _we nebnefer ak_ to mean 'I love you'... it's a curiosity, you know," she said, and it was so random you thought she was toying around with you. But she seemed so serious and collected... "You've never thought of visiting Egypt, have you?"

"Oh..." you paused. "Not really... But by what's been happening to me these days, I think I never will."

She looked at you, mild curiosity in her eyes. It wouldn't harm anyone to know, and everyone on the blimp seemed to believe in weird stuff anyway, so you told her that you'd had a recurrent dream, Yami Malik, dragon of Ra, all that.

The pensive expression on her face deepened. "I see," she said quietly, "You'd dreamt of that already..."

Isis Ishtar looked out at the stars for a long while until she spoke again to you. The sadness in her eyes was deep as she said, "I can't make sense out of this, I'm sorry Khemet."

You weren't expecting any solutions from her anyway. But you appreciated her concern- even if she was a stranger.

"But... you know," she added thoughtfully, "Each twin soul has a place where it rightfully belongs."

**xxx**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Fjuuu... back to normal life; after tests and everything!

How's my Isis? Convincing enough?

Lenora: I know you were expecting a chase scene! But I felt I wouldn't manage to write a decent one :P Sorry T_T


	12. Plunge into deep water

take a deep breath before the...

* * *

><p><strong>12<strong>

**Plunge into deep water.**

You woke up with an ominous feeling that morning. The sun shone outside like everything was fine, but your gut churned in some unknown way...

Later in the day, the duel that came up was between Yugi and Yami Malik- the good guy, and the bad guy, or so it would seem. You were anxious, and you didn't know why.

**xxx**

Your hair was still damp from the long, warm shower you'd just taken, as you ran upstairs to the platform where the duel was being held. You didn't try to fool yourself: you were curious, and you wanted to see Yami Malik again. The feeling he gave you was, as if you were at the zoo watching a caged panther that paced back and forth: it was caged, you were safely out of its reach, but it was still threatening and it knew the fear it stirred...

You came out of the flight of stairs wishing the daylight, but the whole arena was covered in a familiar violet fog- it was, no doubt, a shadow game. The guys were already rooting for Yugi; the game had already started a while ago. Somewhere not so close to the sidelines, Isis Ishtar stood by Seto Kaiba's side, neither of both saw you as you made your way to Tea and the others.

"How's it going?" you asked.

Tea answered you- "Khemet! Well, the creep over there is a die-hard, but Yugi will finish him in no time... he must... for all the guys..." This last you were oblivious to, because Yami Malik had just began chanting _those words_.

That... spell.

Your feet moved on their own until you were not two meters away from him, looking up at him with wonder in your eyes: what would happen now that he'd spoken so?

Events spoke on their own, and your face was lit golden by the glow of a holographic creature that surged from one of Yami Malik's cards- a hawk-like dragon that seemed to be made of pure gold, it was like the sun turned into a creature. You had never seen anything so beautiful or so heartwretching.

Yami Malik was also bathed in that golden light, and he appeared so eerie- he, that was always surrounded by a dark, heavy aura, seemed a bit of sun on his own...

Time dragged as the duel unfolded. But as said before, Yami Malik was the bad guy, and bad guys _never_ win, the outcome was clear. But you began to notice that there was something else going on in that game- apparently, any blow to the player's life points resulted in a blow to the players themselves, and they winced at every little descent in the counter. Magic, right?

At a moment, Yami Malik's points dropped considerably, he looked so much in pain you involuntarily let out a gasp yourself.

He'd not seen you until yet, but then he heard you, and his empty gaze found you in no time. His look was unreadable, something like, '_you, you again!_'. It sent shivers running down your spine: the panther was locking eyes with you- it would force its way out of that cage and devour you.

The game ended not long after that: Yugi, or, as you had come to know... the _other_ Yugi, came up to a kneeling Yami Malik and told him it was over- "Now, evil shadow: you lost the game, return to the one place you should have never left."

Astonished, you saw how threads of shadows and violet fog surged from a pendant Yugi wore – the Millennium Puzzle-, much like you had once seen shadows surge from Bakura's Ring, and engulfed Yami Malik. Only then you noticed how close to them you were, since you had never left the place to which Yami Malik's chant had drawn you...

The Millennium Rod, that hung from Yami Malik's belt loop glowed in response to the Puzzle, and as its bearer began to become incorporeal, it felt with a metallic clatter to the floor.

Once again, Yami Malik's eyes locked with yours as the fog consumed him, and you shrunk in fear. A sourness in your throat warned you that you were feeling too sympathetic towards him: he was an evilness, and he was reaping the fruits fate had in store for him. You should not regret his leaving. But he had somehow become... familiar to you, even despite his being bent on killing you, because you had felt a terrible impotence and frustration coming from him each time you'd dreamt him, and... as he disappeared, he took with him the answers to a lot of questions you had... only he could answer them. The first of those questions was... _Why him?_

The Rod's clattering against the floor rang like a ritual bell in your ears.

Yugi's other half had his eyes widened, and he was looking at you.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: right... it's because I'm following the manga AND reinterpreting the events... but it does make sense, right?

So... what's going to happen now? And what with the Millennium Rod?

R&R! Or my plot bunnies are not fed and die :( And what's worse...they become zombie plot bunnies and procrastinate ;_;


	13. The Shadow Realm

_What if you blinked, opened your eyes, and found yourself in..._

* * *

><p><strong>13<strong>

**The Shadow Realm**

Why was Yugi looking at you like that?

Yami Malik was so transparent you could see a stormy sky through him, what had become of the sunny day?

"Girl!" Yugi was calling you, but you heard him so far away… "Girl, take my hand! Fight the darkness!"

It occurred to you that you were drowsy- you did stretch your arm towards him though, out of instinct… You could see the Millennium Rod glowing merrily through your skin

"I'm going too!" you exclaimed in a shrill voice, that ended turning into a cry of terror as realization sunk in bitterly, "Wait, WAIT….!"

But it soon became all darkness.

**xxx**

When you came to your senses, you opened your eyes only to be welcomed by a rare kind of darkness. It was as if you were caught inside a cloud of obscure mist: when your eyes adjusted to the dark, you saw that your body emitted a faint lilac glow, and that the mist was actually _black- _ as you took a couple of steps, you could see it twirling around you in small swirls, like the ones that form in the water, but made of that thick, odorless mist. That place was chilly and damp like an underground vault, and your steps made absolutely no sound- everything was still and quiet.

You exhaled a sigh that turned into a sob. It was not possible, _not fair_, that you were there… in the Shadow Realm. You knew _that_ was where you'd ended up- the place somehow felt just like the violet fog that had come out of the Millennium Items. Though insanely cold and miserable, you began to walk straight ahead… you weren't going anywhere, but the thought of staying still filled you with terror- it may have had to do with the fact that, when you looked downwards, you could not see your feet- only a drape of impervious fog that seemed thicker down there.

The measure of time escaped you- you didn't know how long you'd been roaming the place. You'd tried shouting for help, but your voice didn't seem to penetrate the mist, and it was a miracle you'd not broken down into hysteria yet.

"Ain't no one here?" you cried in defeat again, but this time, you were scared out of your skin by an unexpected answer.

"Well well, fate just keeps throwing you in my way, hun. Maybe we should go out some day…"

Bakura's voice tauntingly drifted towards you. His voice had never before been so dearly welcome.

"…Bakura!" you exclaimed, "Oh, where are you? Get us out of here!"

Somewhere in the darkness, you heard him laugh that contemptuous laugh of his.

"We were both banished here, to this ward of shadows- don't you think it ain't so easy to get out?" came his mocking answer- "And yet, what would you be doing here? You were a pharaoh-flunky last time I saw you… did our good old sunflower boy get his hands on you at last?"

"No…" you said slowly, it was odd to be talking to the fog, "I don't know what happened. I want out of here…"

"But of course you do," he said suavely, and he laughed. You hated that he laughed at you.

"Well, now that I think of it," you hear him say, "There _is_ an interdimensional vortex somewhere around here…"

"_Interdimensional vortex? Sure thing, Bakura_…" you thought unamused. You _hated_ that he mocked you.

He must have sensed your reluctance to believe him.

"Actually, it's opening right there behind you.. hard not to see it, eh hun?"

You spun around as fast as lightning, all the while Bakura laughed his head off, he was watching you from somewhere.

Hard not to see it, indeed- it was a rip in the darkness, of some unspeakable color- it looked like gasoline- and absolutely not inviting. The fog was sucked into it in violent whirlpools.

"Where does it go?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," he said smoothly. The damned snake.

"But anyway, I've no need to leave this place- the Shadow Realm is like my living room. Watch out for the TV set!" he exclaimed with yet another round of laughter.

You gritted your teeth. "Isn't there another way out? Can't you spring up a vortex that gets me home?"

"Won't do, girl," he said, more serious but still amused, "this place has a life of its own. I can only suggest stuff, but it acts on its will- so take it or leave it, but please don't mess with my carpet-" and there he was again, laughing at you.

Both because you desperately wanted out of there, and _away_ from Bakura's enervating self you gathered up the courage to take a step in the direction of the shifting vortex. Then another, then another- then you needn't take another step, because it on itself sucked you in.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa YAMI BAKURA! love love love... I wanna go to his living room too... Or... on seconds thoughts... not.

What do you think? In character? Revieww! Takes like a second and a half and motivates me :) Shoutout to cool people like Lenora and Hana-Liatris! I love you guys! =D


	14. something stirred in the cellar

_wait... quiet! I think it sounds as if..._

* * *

><p><strong>14<strong>

**something stirred in the cellar**

Every inch of your body felt sore. Your eyes were shut close, you dreaded to open them. The more you thought about it, the more you couldn't believe you'd actually come into that vortex. You could be anywhere...! _Interdimensional vortex_... All the gods in the world damn Yami Bakura. What if you were in... in another planet? What if you'd turned into an animal or something so odd?

Wherever you were, at least it was soft, and smelt familiar- like dust and something else that you didn't recognize, but it wasn't foreign either. Your head throbbed like a bitch, too, and you let out an involuntary grunt.

Timidly, you opened your eyes. It was not completely dark- there was a ceiling up there, and everything, even the light that leaked into the place from some opening atop a wooden ramp, was earthen. The little you saw of a wall seemed to be made of something that reminded you of adobe bricks.

When your eyes became used to the dim light, you tried moving your limbs a bit- sore, sore to their very core, but none broken. Carefully, you sat up- only then you noticed your soft cushion wasn't such thing- it was a person... Yami Malik.

Why didn't it surprise you? Well, no, in fact it did surprise you. You stifled a yelp and stood up immediately, only to kneel down next to him and observe him. He was out cold, but didn't look like he'd been hurt. You chewed on your inner cheek- what to do? For all that was dear to you, you couldn't just ignore the fact that he'd meant to kill you a couple of times. On the other hand, you'd be alone in... wherever you were if you left him there.

And there was yet another thing: although you didn't like to think of it, there was that dream that had never really left you alone, and somehow bound you to him- why, you wondered, if your role in the story had already been fulfilled: you'd told him that spell he'd so wished, or needed... Apparently something else was amiss, because your conscience wasn't at ease.

You shrugged, and decided to find out what was beyond the wooden ramp, the only exit apparent. Peering out, you saw a dim passage: you only ventured into it because it was so empty and silent. The passage was really a corridor in a house all made of those adobe bricks; it lead to a couple of furnished rooms and finally to a closed door. It was all very neat, but, strangely enough, it didn't look like anyone lived in the place.

Overcoming your fear, you opened the door slightly ajar...

The bright light hurt your eyes.

**xxx**

Yami Malik still lay on the floor. You loosened the clasp that fastened his heavy cloak around his shoulders and let it lie there, it was too hot to be wearing that anyway. After a moment's consideration, you held his arm and slipped it over your shoulders, and somehow managed to hoist him up. You'd never carried anyone like that in your life, and found yourself struggling with the dead weight. It was mysterious, really, how you could successfully bring him to one of the rooms, where you had him lie on one of the straw heaps that were neatly arranged as beds, on the floor.

Beads of perspiration ran down your neck as you found a chair to collapse onto. "_Water,_" you thought, "_It's water or death..._"

Once you'd recovered from the great effort, you began exploring the house. First things first, you found some water (and to hell if it had some tropical water disease, you were _dying of thirst_), then rummaged through the different rooms and chests and stuff to find clothes suitable to the time and place...

It was still unbelievable, something between a bad joke and a fantastic dream (you knew a thing or two about these last, at the moment).

The front door of the house opened to a busy market place, as you'd learned from your peeping spot. It was like some scene you'd once seen in an epic adventure movie; one of those that took place in Ancient Persia or the Roman Empire- only that it was neither of those; but unmistakable Egypt. Ancient Egypt. Destiny was playing with you as if you were a rag doll...

**xxx**

It was noon when you saw Yami Malik begin to stir- apparently he'd been needing a good night's sleep for a long time.

You'd changed into a plain cotton dress you'd found somewhere, slipped into a worn pair of sandals, and tied your hair in a loose ponytail. You were only missing the kohl- maybe this Egyptian sleeping beauty had some to spare? You chuckled mirthlessly. You'd been sitting on that chair since you'd gotten changed, looking at the sleeping man, unsure whether you wanted him to wake or not. Playing in your mind a thousand of possible scenarios.

However, though you anxiously encouraged him with your gaze to wake, it didn't go beyond a stir. And night fell, and there he was: still sleeping.

Frustrated, you blew a stray strand of hair off your face. It had been the day most shamefully gone to waste in your entire life- just sitting on a chair, watching minutes drag by and Yami Malik's chest rise and fall. But you had done some serious thinking... you hoped you had, anyway. It was still impossible to figure out how to get out of there; though at the moment you had come to the conclusion that he _must_ have some _plan_, or come to devise one...

**xxx**

You left an earthen bowl with water by his side in case he woke up with the ame thought-consuming thirst you'd had, and also some sort of Egyptian clothing piece you found around (later you'd come to know those were called _shenti_) for him to wear. Oh, you were such a thoughtful thing- you scorned at the irony; but what could you do?

There were a couple of beds more in that room, so you chose one as yours and lay there, a knife of sorts you'd taken from the kitchen-like room reassuringly by your side: maybe if he tried to murder you in your sleep you could at least try to scratch him.

Truth be told, it terrified you more to sleep out of sight of him than at such a close range.

**xxx**

You didn't know how long you'd slept the following morning, or how long you would have slept if the sound of your room partner crunching the straw making of the cot hadn't woken you. You watched him through half-lidded eyes.

He blinked his eyes open as he awoke and sit up, holding his head as if he were having a massive headache (for which you wouldn't blame him). He seemed to notice something in that moment, because his eyes widened and he looked at his hands for the longest while, disbelief and shock written all over his face, which he felt with his fingertips in a very curious fashion- "Impossible," you heard him whisper through gritted teeth. (He never seemed to notice his cloak was missing.) Still looking bewildered he raised his gaze to survey the surroundings- he didn't appear to find the place as unfamiliar and unsettling as you had- but then again; you'd lived your entire life in the city, you'd recognized the adobe bricks only because you'd read of them in some History class. He was Egyptian- maybe they still lived in the same kind of houses as 3000 years ago?

Only after a while did he notice you, lying quietly on a nearby mat. He showed his surprise by narrowing his eyes. "Damn…" you heard him mutter, but continued to pretend you were asleep.

You saw him grab the earthen bowl and take a draft, shrinking his nose, probably at the taste. "_But beggars can't be choosers,_" you thought, seeing how it also fit your pick of an ally. And saw him inspect the shenti, then smirk to himself, and then you shut your eyes, effectively granting him some privacy. The self-absorbed prick.

While you were at that, guessing circles in the darkness behind your closed lids, you were called back to his unusual reaction when waking up. What was there so amazing about waking up anyway? Being alive? Well, yeah, that was something. Your thoughts drifted to the cloak lying discarded in the cellar, and then to a memory of a not-so-distant past. In it, Malik was telling you about how there is more magic to this world than most people ever notice… You wondered how Malik was faring in the real world, now that the darkness was gone…

That made something dawn on you, like a revelation: of _course_ Yami Malik would be so surprised- for all you knew, him and Malik had been ripped apart the moment he'd been sent to the Shadow Realm. Could it be that had made them into two different persons?

Your eyes opened on their own accord, to assess him in a new light- he was finishing tying the linen cloth around his waist; he was much leaner and muscular than you'd noticed, and his skin color agreed well with the new clothing. The only thing that intrigued you was why he was keeping that ratty black t-shirt on- if _you'd_ been a man, extra clothing, off you go! But well, he was weird.

How would everything go on, now that he was, apparently, human?

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Yami Malik at lastttt *_* He's like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa *_* love him. Though... it's not as if he actually did much in this chapter. 1600 words of him just sleeping, w00t XD haha

Now to my reviewers, who are the best thing in the world after blonde Egyptians (...if there's actually any of those in the real world, whatever xD):

Lenora: yaaay they're in Egypt now! The next chapter will be more colorful though, I promise :P And it'd be like *dreamy sigh* to make a YBakura story, but... I guess it'd be very hard for him to fall in love with anyone :/ It's challenging!

StoryReader: hello! virtual glomp ;) Aren't interdimensional vortexes (is that the plural? LOL) just too _cute_? (totally wrong word choice, hahaha xD)

Hana-Liatris: sexy sexy sexyyyy Egyptians ~~ jajaja xD and then with TK running around killing ppl it gets even SO better, lolz. But I have the hots for Ra. Honest to death... not. It's just those feathers, they drive me insane xD

so... see you next chappy!

Any and every review makes this humble writer eager to write more so... Review please? puppy eyes? =D


	15. Shores of Osiris

_waking up to the..._

* * *

><p><strong>15<strong>

**Shores of Osiris**

Unbelievably, you'd struck a deal.

More than anything, you wanted to go home- and the more you walked past street vendors and spice stands and slave merchants, the more you were certain of it. Him, on the other hand… you couldn't _guess_ what he wanted, but you thought that maybe he didn't know yet. In every way possible, he'd been thrown off-balance. Also, he wished you dead with his whole newly acquired heart, but he knew that two of you had a more likely chance to survive than only one- it was not much he lost by 'letting you live' a while longer. The place did look like it could be Ancient Egypt, but how sure of that could you actually be?

As you waded through the market place, you scooted as close to him as you could without irritating him too much. He might have blended in, but you didn't, even in your local clothes you smelled like a foreigner miles off, and as thus earned curious stares from the people who happened to look your way. Now and then, his eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"Hey… where are we going now?" you asked, having to raise your voice over the constant hollering of the bazaar people. The place was infinitely colorful, everything was sold everywhere, and the hot air smelt fragrant despite the stagnancy.

"Away from here," was his laconic answer, and he strode even faster, as fast as he could as he made his way past the sea of comers and goers.

The bazaar stretched for blocks and blocks- it was probably the largest of the city, wherever it was you two were, but it finally came to an end in a residential area, and you finally caught up to him, panting. The heat and smell of sweaty people and animals had made you dizzy, and to top it all you had had to chase your Egyptian companion who waltzed his way out of the place because _damn_, he _was_ used to that murderous heat. You felt you were on your way to an apoplexy…

"Hey, it wouldn't kill you to slow down a bit, right?" you asked, panting. He just shrugged, keeping his answer to himself, dedicating you only a glare that made you recoil in fear. He had that power over you; making you feel like he could devour you if he so wished.

He looked around a bit, and began walking again.

"W-wait!" you called, "Where are you going now?"

He ignored you.

"Tell me, oh, speak! You're making me go insane," you pleaded as you gathered your strength to pursue him once more.

He smirked briefly to himself, apparently pleased with his achievement, and you felt like despising him.

It was a long walk, and the sun was beginning to hide behind the Nile. At some point you'd caught a glimpse of your destination: a large temple or a palace that towered over the city. If you'd known any History maybe you would have understood better, but you knew nothing and couldn't tell what kind of building it was.

There was a moment in which you couldn't go anymore and fell behind. You'd had nothing to eat in the entire day, the sun had blazed on you the entire day; making your head throb horribly and your skin begin to blister. As your knees gave way under you and you fell on a heap to the dirt of the street, you felt a hand of long, bony fingers seize your wrist and pull you up. Your eyes locked with Yami Malik's, that sported a mixture of scorn and amusement.

"Don't slacken, my dear," he cooed, and dragged you along with him, which was more or less equivalent to torturing you.

**xxx**

When you saw the many stone steps that ascended to the main entrance of the building, a palace, _the_ palace, as you came to know, you felt your heart falter. "I can't go all the way up there," you said with a miserable sigh. You'd wondered for a long while if there was any skin left on your feet, thoroughly abused by the dirt and pebbles on the street and the unfamiliar sandals.

"Crawl," he said cryptically, and began going up. You could only watch him step up and up, to the tall lotus-columns that supported the large building. Both sides of the stairway were guarded by statues of catlike dogs, (then you learned those were jackals,) and up there in the palace there were yet more statues, of gods, you guessed, each more magnificent and awe-inspiring than the previous one. It was a beautiful place.

A couple of guards came up to you: they were bare-chested, clad in a simply shenti and sandals. They wore golden ornaments and carried threatening spears, a sheathed scimitar hung from their waists.

"The man we can let pass," one of them told you, "But you are a woman and a foreigner, and you must not enter the palace."

You didn't understand a thing they spoke, but they sounded threatening… and they were pointing their spears at you.

Someone unlikely came to aid you.

She descended the steps majestically, her regal clothing lapping gently over the stone steps, as a Yami Malik of arms crossed and unreadable expression followed after her.

You smiled in relief, although you could not imagine how it would be possible that she was here.

"…Isis?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Shortish but sweet, ain't it? So what's going to happen now? Are you going to be enduring mutism and gender-discrimination the rest of the story? (haha, that's an easy one to answer :P)

Reviews are most helpful... makes the plot not so hard to steer :)

Tight hug! Oh waiiiittt... shoutouts!

To dears Lenora and StoryReader, and my wonderful sister, aaaand! to A'isha Ishtar who sent me that amazing review that just had me melting and prompted me to update this chappy =D

Love you all!... btw, my dA account is bluestwaves . deviantart . com ... Just in case you wanna check out my awesome Yami Malik drawings... lolz. But it's not my hand... he's just intrinsically hot, lol.


	16. daughter of Nut

_the Millennium Necklace would only choose a..._

* * *

><p><strong>16<strong>

**daughter of Nut**

The stone steps ended in a large stone atrium. From up there, you could see the Nile snaking around the city and through the grounds of the palace and temples behind it. It was a wonderful view. Isis had had you carried up by one of the guards, who now seemed very spooked. He kept looking at you and Yami Malik and at the line of the horizon where the sun was setting, far beyond the pyramids.

Only then you realized you'd come to the palace from the West- the Land of the Dead. That you knew it because you'd watched a documentary once, in the National Geographic channel… Though you knew little of it, the implications made you shiver.

You knew that the guard wouldn't understand a thing, but you thanked him nonetheless. Yami Malik's look was one of supreme contempt as he looked at you, but toned down and looked more serious when Isis addressed him. They spoke in Ancient Egyptian, no doubt of that, but… How come Yami Malik could speak it?

It was some mysterious guy you'd ended up stuck with. His lavender eyes and gold earrings flickered a thrilling orange shade of ember in the sunset light, and as Isis asked him and he answered with few words, he looked your way a couple of times.

"Come," he said at a moment, and you snapped out of a trance. You'd been sitting cross-legged on the stone ground, looking at the night draping twilight over the sky and desert beyond the fertile shore of the Nile. The first stars were sparkling brightly near the horizon, you'd never seen such a landscape before.

**xxx**

As you followed Isis through marble halls none of you spoke, and you observed the internal architecture of the palace. It was superb; more even when compared to the poor house the Shadow Realm had marooned you in. The walls were carved with rhythmical designs, and the high ceiling was supported by columns, finely decorated with lotus flowers, papyrus and scenes of daily life in the palace. Torches were already lit, and a delicious smell of food, probably being cooked in large quantities, came to you at times. The elegant woman, who looked older than you remembered her, halted before a tall wooden door. She unlocked it and let you in.

It was a large rectangular room, lit by few torches that projected poor caramel light on the scene. A large window occupied most of the largest wall, and out of it you could see the beautiful Egyptian landscape almost completely shrouded in darkness. Little lights belonging to the houses in the city below sparkled like merry fireflies in the dimness of the early spring twilight.

The only pieces of furniture in the room were a low wooden table and some divans, towards which she gestured you to go, to take a seat. Both of them, Yami Malik and Isis were talking quietly, and all you could do was hug your stomach to try to keep it from grumbling and betraying the hunger you felt.

They didn't seem to mind that you didn't understand a thing, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

"Hey," you said to Yami Malik, tapping on his shoulder softly (his skin was very warm), "what's going on?".

He looked down at you, with a smirk. "Only pay attention," he said smoothly.

"You _know_ I can't make out what you're talking."

"Oh my my," he taunted, "and it's I who should fix it?"

You glared daggers at him, meanwhile, Isis was smiling, evidently amused by the exchange.

"We _can_ do something about it," she said, "I should just speak to Seth."

It was time for your jaw to drop- _that_ you had understood...!

"How...?"

"It's a gift of the Millennium Tauk," she explained, "but I cannot extend it to you- Seth can. The Rod has that power."

You beamed sunshines at her (you wondered why she'd not used it sooner, though), and made a little scornful victory face at Yami Malik, who was probably wishing you death yet again, but couldn't do a thing right there and then, so he just rolled his eyes.

"Now," she said calmly, as she had only just begun talking, "I saw you come- from far away, another time and another place."

It was all so bizarre. Yami Malik looked bored out of his mind, he wasn't trying too hard to hide it...

"Could you always know the future?" you asked Isis.

She smiled enigmatically.

"It comes and goes," she said simply, as if you'd understand, "But the future can always change; it is really something deeply personal."

"What did you see when you saw us?", you asked again, with some excitement evident in your voice. And Yami Malik's eyebrow twitched, thinking that you were taking it as if it all were a big game.

Isis smiled, and with infinite patience she explained...

**xxx**

She led you two to a secluded wing of the palace, dimly lit by torches; "You can stay here," she said, gesturing to a door, "a servant will come to lead you to the banquet hall. All the priests are expecting you."

You noticed it was only one door. Then, after some seconds, that she said the priests were expecting you?

Oh?

Isis saw you both come in, and then closed the door behind you. The door led to a large room. A long drape of thick cotton divided it into two private halves- one for each, apparently. On the bed that was meant to be yours, someone had thoughtfully left some clothes more fit to the company of Egyptian royalty...

Oh, it was all so insane. You, and Ancient Egyptian royalty?

Yami Malik's voice cut your musings.

"Now, little thing- the time is come for you to kneel before me and beg for your life."

"_What?_" you asked, trembling suddenly despite your surprise at his sudden change of attitude, "Are you insane or what?"

"Well yes," he said, with something akin to a witty smirk, "I've been called that before-"

"- _insane_!" you repeated, "These priests or whatever are expecting the _both_ of us to buffoon their table...!" You were clenching your fists- however sensible your words may have been, _he_ was _not_ a sensible thing.

He shrunk his shoulders. "You'll have just 'gone back home' as you wanted," and he sneered at the thought.

"They'll easily believe you with my blood on your hands. And what about Isis." You'd not noticed you were inching closer and closer to the door behind you. Why on Earth would Isis put you at such a close reach of that psychotic specimen, it was beyond you. How you had the temper to put up with him was beyond you too... you'd have never guessed...

You stole behind your side of the cotton drape as he glared a deathwish at you. He was starting to wonder if he'd not been foolish to think that once he'd stuck with you he'd be able to easily dispose of you. Oh, how he was wishing you agony at the moment. If only he'd had the power of darkness... but that darkness that had created him six painful years past, seemed to have left him as he'd come out of the Shadow Realm. He was not too comfortable with that, he somehow felt... naked.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>:

(psst! I'm writing a super special awesome mystery story in which Yami Bakura is a lawyer and Kaiba a detective, and there's a murder they have to investigate, and otherwordly stuff happens. Mystery, crime, action, adventure, and romance. All you want in a good YGO story ;). Check it out! it's called **_Coroner's court_**)

But back to our story!

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,stalemate! Now none of both can do anything, so what's going to happen?

Thank you guys for the awesome reviews! You really keep me, and the story, going :) So... dun-dun-dun... what do you think the priests will say to them?


	17. On trial

_in which it seems that you are..._

* * *

><p><strong>17<strong>

**On trial**

You looked at yourself in the mirror made of polished metal. It wouldn't do- you were a disaster, disheveled hair, cheeks stained by Egyptian dirt; and that linen dress you were wearing, of a finer making than the one you were wearing before, did nothing but make your state of ruin more evident. You scowled at the reflection.

Subtly, out of a mixture of curiosity and... trespassing into no man's land, or sort of, you looked over your shoulder towards the long drape. It was thick, but an orange light came from something lit on the other side, a torch or some candles, and you could see Yami Malik's silhouette through it, and guess the bronze of his naked back- he'd gotten that black t-shirt off and was throwing on some sort of sleeveless robe of light-colored fabric. His armbands and earrings flashed golden as he moved.

"_He's a damn odd psycho,_" you thought, making yourself believe that he was not your concern in the very least. It was not nice, thinking that you might get stabbed in the middle of the night and nothing would happen...

**xxx **

The seven priests looked at you two with a different expression on their faces each. The one that seemed a carbon copy of Seto Kaiba, priest Seth, seemed to be amused. The other ones' looks varied in degrees of curiosity and graveness, and there was one in particular, an old man with an eye made of gold inserted into his eye socket, was giving you both a glare meant to send you straight to Maat's judgment. The creep.

They all seemed to know what the deal was with Yami Malik and you- they even knew your _names_.

"Khemet, Malik," one of them said, one who, oddly enough, reminded you of somebody... (the Dark Magician, he was like the Dark Magician...!) "I am priest Mahaado, and I think I speak for the seven of us, when I say that you are welcome to this land of Egypt- into this palace, and are free to stay with us if so you wish."

Most of them nodded- Isis was smiling calmly.

"Two foreigners, lurking about the palace," the old man muttered, loud enough for you all to hear.

"We'll find them something to do, Akhenaden," Seth said, amused at his irritation.

**xxx **

Yami Malik and you walked in silence back to your large chamber.

"Hey," you said meekly, "Sohm... hey..."

He didn't even _look_ at you.

"Malik?" you tested, "I can call you Malik, right? Alone? Not Dark Malik or so?"

He glanced over his shoulder and scoffed. "It's always been _my_ name."

You kept your smile in check.

"Isn't it cool that they're letting us stay?" It was as if you were talking to the walls... "And you're working in the calabooses? That's so creepy... then again you're creepy," you said under your breath.

Sepulchral silence reigned in the corridors, until you heard him mutter, "Hold fast to your tongue while you still have it."

**xxx **

That night, as you lay on your bed, you thought of Isis' words of earlier...

_"What did you see when you saw us?", you asked again, with some excitement evident in your voice. And Yami Malik's eyebrow twitched, thinking that you were taking it as if it all were a big game._

She had talked of seeing a shadow over the desert, coming from the West- and two pilgrims (she had, indeed, said pilgrims, as if she talked about refugees, exiles...) running from the shadow, coming into the palace for shelter. But one, she said, was dressed in sand, and the other wore a cloak of thick darkness. In the end they curled together into a sphere of marble, the shadow enveloped the palace, and the marble sphere then melted into blood that ran down the stone steps that led to the palace.

But if your arrival would bring blood, why was she offering you shelter?

_"Your coming here signals the end of an era, it will unchain the evil that sleeps in the desert and the streets will be awash with blood."_

You didn't know what kind of sense it made, that you should be treated as guests when such a vision loomed over your heads.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>:

Hello! soryr for the late update. I'm having my last exam this term (this year!) this afternoon, so... wish me luck!

Thanks guys for the very kind reviews! Keep 'em coming =D so I can know what to write... or what NOT to write ^^

Next chapter: Some answers, and a (rather creepy) tour of the palace. Everything very harmless... right?


	18. Gardens and Dungeons

_In which there are..._

* * *

><p><strong>18<strong>

**Gardens and dungeons**

Bright sunshine in your face woke you up.

Wonderful Egypt... You'd thought you were home at first, all cozy and comfortable despite the weird angle of the bed. But you soon noticed your mistake- the large drape that acted as wall, the objects of distinctive Egyptian style... You wondered what was to be done now. The night before, you'd been told that you were to help in the gardens- you didn't know how or when or where.

Yami Malik was surely going to enjoy whatever they wanted him to do down there in the dungeons. Great, the guy was a murderous psycho by nature, the only thing your wellbeing needed was that they just... openly fostered his madness.

Without even checking if Yami Malik was still in the contiguous room, you made your way to the door and opened it, and closed it behind your back as you left, and almost slammed against a slave that stood outside, who bowed to you as you saw him.

"If you'd please follow me," he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world that you should just come out of the room when he'd been expecting you. And you understood him, too, god bless the Millennium Rod.

"Ehm…" you started, but he was already walking ahead of you. You uneasily followed after him, as he advanced through high-roofed, broad corridors of cream-colored walls, profusely decorated with colorful hieroglyphics. Fidgeting with your linen dress, your mind wandered back to the priests and Isis' prophecy. They'd given you both work, decided to keep you in the palace- you two, foreigners coming from the West…

The slave came to two tall doors, he pushed open one of them and let you in. It was a sunny room, with large, open windows that let a scented breeze through. A long table took up most of it, and a regal breakfast greeted your eyes. Fountains and fountains with food and fruits, bread and sweet pastries, made your thoughts become silent. Someone, or someones, had evidently eaten before you, but the fountains were still abundant and inviting.

"May I…?" you asked the slave.

"Of course," he answered with a bow, and stood to a side. "If you should need anything…"

You nodded, and took some grapes, some bread and a large glass of water. You'd not noticed how hungry you were, but then you remembered that you had eaten almost nothing the day before.

You had barely finished, when Isis came into the room. You couldn't but marvel again at the neat timing everyone seemed to have- would it have to do with the magical disposition of everything in that moment?

Isis greeted you good morning, and asked you if you'd found your room comfortable.

"Oh, yes," you said, "I slept very well…"

She frowned, "I see," and was about to say something else, but seemed to decide against it. She smiled, instead, so you gave it no thought.

"The priests said I'd help in the gardens," you started, still finding it intriguing, but Isis didn't let you go on.

"Indeed," she said with her soothing smile, "but this morning, priest Akhenaden has asked to show you the dungeons."

You didn't quite like that… Dungeons? Besides, hadn't it been Akhenaden the one that was eyeing you and Yami Malik the night before, as if you were to bring the plague to Egypt?

"Me?" you asked, "Why…?"

"I don't know," she answered- it shocked you a bit that she didn't know something. She seemed to _always_ know. "But if you come with me, I'll show you the way"

**xxx**

With resignation, you followed after Akhenaden and Yami Malik- he'd been there when you arrived, leaning against a wall. He'd had the decency to smirk a reply at you when you told him "good morning".

The dungeons were underground, and as you followed the two men, you noticed how the wonderful hieroglyphics on the walls changed as you advanced. Once the priest had opened a large door that led to the most sinister steps you'd seen in your life, you saw how they were still impressive, but no longer beautiful. They showed war scenes, prisoners and the divine judgment. It sent chills down your spine, and gave you a horrible sense of foreboding, making you dread whatever it was that was down those dark stone steps; splattered with old blood stains. Your fear made you walk faster, and you almost stumbled with Yami Malik, who walked a couple of steps ahead of you- he shot you a menacing glare over his shoulder.

The only light came from Akhenaden's torch. He told you, before you'd begun your descent, that you should not venture far from the torchlight. Those dungeons, built centuries before that time, stretched for miles and miles underneath the royal palace and the city. They were like a maze of corridors, chambers and passages, and, if you were to believe Akhenaden's words, most of them still remained unexplored.

It seemed to amuse Yami Malik- the ground had leveled, and you walked almost next to him now. Again, you had the odd feeling that you'd rather be near him than not, even if he was a danger to you just like the thick, sticky darkness that breathed at the edges of the circle of light. The air was humid and murky, and it alone brought a strange, almost… ashen taste to your lips. As you walked further into the network of chambers, you began to distinguish the glow of other torches- there were guards down there, keeping watch over stone-walled jails.

You shivered. Did Akhenaden want you to see that place so that you knew what could await you? Now and then he spoke, and he sounded not as hostile as the night before, but he still felt as intimidating.

He guided you through a series of stone-walled corridors. Protected by the glow of their torches, the guards that stood next to those jails, that seemed to have been carved out of the walls, followed you three with their dark eyes as you walked by. Their faces looked ashen, and the silence in that area was now and then pierced by murmurs and wails. You were sickened to your core, and wanted with all your heart to go back, back upwards to the sun and clean air. A stench unfamiliar to you emanated from the ground and walls and jails, and you wrinkled your nose in disgust.

Yami Malik caught a glimpse of your gesture and smirked.

Leaning towards you, he whispered in your ear "It smells like dead flesh. This place is infested with rotting bodies". He looked at you then, evidently taking pleasure in the expression of complete fear and disgust on your face.

Rubbing your hands on your arms to keep warm, you followed the two men ahead of you. It seemed ages until Akhenaden led you to a large chamber, better lit than the rest of the dungeons, where a throne and a couple of regal armchairs sat atop a platform, as to oversee whatever took place in the middle of that room.

Once again, Akhenaden explained. A torture chamber. Immediately your head began to spin.

"_Can't I go back?_" you thought, horrified. Despite the torches, the room was sinister and ominous- much like the rooms in the palace, hieroglyphics adorned the walls, neatly washed unlike the rest of the dungeons. In a far corner, you could see a set of stairs. Probably, this room could be reached from the palace above.

Without noticing, you took a couple of steps backwards, as if that would get you out of reach of the intense fear that gripped you. But you came into contact with the cold, humid wall behind you and its engraved hieroglyphics of skeletons and the vengeance of Sekhmet. Your head became faint, but the wall supported you and kept you from falling to the ground unconscious and causing a scene.

Only when Akhenaden stopped talking, you realized that he'd been speaking the whole while, that Yami Malik had not once turned to laugh at you, and that they were both heading towards that staircase you had noticed earlier.

The steps led to a large, fairly empty room, which in turn opened, doorless, to a large courtyard.

The strong sun hit you on the face, and the heat drove the cold away, but not the fear or the deep impression the place had had on you.

It was barely midday.

.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

**I was trying to fix a couple of typos and uploaded the wrong document and blah. Had to repost. Sorry.**

Thanks for the reviews! They keep me going, I swear. I'm almost done with the next chapter so tomorrow or so I'¡ll be updating :)


	19. night of the new moon

_Which happened in the..._

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><p><strong>19<strong>

**night of the new moon**

The dungeons left you spooked and without appetite. As you ambled through the large, luminous corridors, a slave found you and told you they were waiting for you.

A hard day's work began after that. One of the sacred crocodiles in Sobek's temple had escaped and wrecked havoc on the gardens adjacent to the temple. You and many others spent most of the afternoon replanting what the enormous beast had destroyed in its escape. It was such a fantastic reason for gardening… but, however unusual it was for you, it kept your thoughts away from the dark chambers that outstretched deep beneath the palace.

**xxx**

It was high noon when a priestess came up to you and told you if you could give her your time. The gardens that surrounded the temple had been brought to order, but there was still much to do. However, this was not what she wanted of you. She spoke of a garden to the West of the palace that had long since been neglected- some wild feline had been seen once there, and since then the slaves refused to work on it.

As she led you to that cursed garden, because it had become known as such, she told you that it was a place with a magnificent view: it towered over theNileand the desert yonder. You both came to the entrance, and she left to oversee thetempleofSobekonce more.

It was a breath-taking panorama from there: it was built on some sort of terrace, like the hanging gardens ofBabylonyou'd once read of, and there was not a thing you could miss from up there. But it was long since anyone had cared for that garden, and the plants that had not dried in the sun and lawless heat, snaked languidly amidst a sea of yellow grass. Not even the palmtrees looked happy.

Looking around, you realized that the wing of the palace that looked on the garden was the one you were in- you guessed your window to the far left.

The sun began to fall on the horizon, and the light became mellow and orange. Dazed, you strolled around, minding your steps in case there could be snakes, and finally came to the border of the brick terrace. A wall, a couple of meters high, separated the palace from the green fields below. Bathed in the hazy twilight glow, it was an enchanting sight.

Only then you became aware that you weren't alone watching the sun set behind the barrenlandofSet.

Yami Malik stood with his back towards you, his silhouette outlined against the sky in some earthen hue. Then and again, you seemed to encounter him… you allowed yourself to look at him for some minutes, to observe him. What could he be thinking? He was Egyptian after all, wasn't he?

How different did he feel about his motherland now?

Eventually, he sensed you (he had that capacity) and turned his head towards you. His expression was unreadable, but he began heading back to the palace.

He stopped by your side.

His depthless lavender eyes looked into yours, sending chills down your spine that had by the moment become familiar. He raised his hand, the golden armlet glistened softly, and his thumb brushed against your chin and your lips, parting them gently. Then he continued on his way, not looking back once.

What a strange man. You touched your lips in wonder as your mind struggled to make sense out of a clearly senseless situation. He'd once done the same- when you'd come across him the first time, he'd raised the Millennium Rod and trailed your chin and lips as well. It was a memory engraved in your mind: the thrill, the terror you felt.

Bewildered, and, of course, answerless, you headed back to the palace as well, leaving behind you a clear sky where the first stars began to twinkle. Such a sky as the world had not witnessed since hundreds, thousands of years.

**xxx**

TheRoyalPalacewas immense, but no matter how lost you felt there, there was always some slave that appeared out of nowhere and took you somewhere where somebody was expecting you. It happened that way when you went back in from the gardens. You were guided to a room where you had something for dinner, and a girl servant told you Isis said she would see you some time the following day.

After that, she led you to your room.

You collapsed onto the bed. Your body ached from the strain of working in the garden the whole afternoon, and, once more, the images of the dungeons came to your mind. In trying to keep them away, you fell asleep.

**xxx**

Something woke you up in the middle of the night: your eyes blinked open and drank the darkness in. The night was still and breezy, but you immediately sensed something… there was something in the air, hovering over the room: like a ghost, or a presence (funny you should think of that, you'd never experienced or believed anything of the sort), that made the darkness stir, or pulsate. A faint murmur reached your ears, too, like a hushed song sung by little children. Your heart shrank in fear- wouldn't it ever end? The fear? Gathering courage from places unknown, you threw your legs over the side of the bed, lit a candle and paced around the room. The weak light painted the furniture and drapings a soft, gentle hue of orange.

Apprehension coiled around you like a snake: the murmuring was shrill, and the breeze brought to you the voice of the darkness like a pant that breathed down your neck.

"_The shadows are hungry, and they will be fed…_" You had once heard Yami Malik said that, in one of his duels. You didn't know how those words found their way into your head, but they tied a knot in your throat, and brought your thoughts to Yami Malik, sleeping on the other side of the cotton drape…

A sense of foreboding washed over you. Gripping the candle tight, too tightly, you tiptoed around the dividing drape and crossed to his side of the room. That bodiless presence breathed from the darkness at the edges of the candle's glow, that gave the shapes it touched a depth and a relief.

The caramel light brought before you a scene that made your blood run cold.

Yami Malik slept, but little figures danced in a circle around him. They projected no shadow as they surrounded him, like vulturesque little paper persons, their bodies a mass of condensed black fog. The shrill, hushed chant enveloped them as they gorged on a dark, faint mist that rose from Yami Malik's body- they absorbed it greedily and kept on dancing all the merrier, and once more you thought of his words, _the darkness must, will be fed._

"Malik!" you cried, despite your terror, "Malik, wake up!".

But nothing changed, nothing stirred- you didn't exist for those little creatures that you'd made corporeal through the candlelight. The mist continued too ooze from his tanned skin, from his parted lips, and he still slept, unperturbed.

.

You leaped past the circle of shadow creatures. Your courage might have come from the thought that he was in danger- you _knew_ he was. The eye of Horus, the Wedjat gleamed on his forehead, fainter and fainter.

When you broke the circle, a terrible change occurred to the dancing beings, they launched at you, and you felt how their little teeth sank into your flesh- they tore at your nightgown and your hair. Each bite felt like a sting, but you advanced towards Yami Malik, trying to put that foreign pain aside. The candle still burned, some feet away from you, wrapping everything in a loving warm light that did not match with the macabre in the scene.

You called him again and again, shook him, tried by all means to wake him, but his slumber was deep, those things wouldn't want him to wake. At some moment, your fingers brushed against the eye of Wedjat on his forehead.

The moment his eyes snapped open, the little creatures of black fog flew his way too, and began gnawing at his extremities- his forearms, legs…

Then, something happened- a white flash of light washed over the room, and for mere seconds, everything seemed ablaze with starlight.

When it faded, the room was empty, and there was not a single bitemark on your skin- neither on Yami Malik's. However, the stinging pain was not gone. You fell on a heap on the floor, exhausted and sore, and deeply impressed.

All you had the strength to do was look up at him- he sat on the bed, he touched his forehead and leant it on his palm.

"What…?" you heard him mutter.

"What was that, Malik?" you interrupted, "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Only when you spoke did he realize you were there. The way he looked at you- no one had ever looked at you like that. A mixture of pain, hate, weariness…

"The darkness came for me…" he said, in a very low voice, "But I'm not going back- I'll never go back to it."

It was all you spoke that night. A moonless sky stretched outside the window as you got back in bed, and it appeared to be better not to try to know what had woken you up in the first place, or what that flash of light had been.

.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

**Guys! Happy (late) New Year for all of you!**

**Special thanks to Lenora, my dear faithful reviewer! =D And shutout to SlayerFaith and Koolkatx!**

**.**

**What do you think of this chapter? It deviates A LOT from the original Quizilla plot. But I like it. It adds another twist to the plot... so... what are you expecting now? Why did that happen? I'd like to know what you think.**

**Lots of love!**

**-Me**


	20. The altar of the sun god

_A soul room for..._

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><p><strong>20<strong>

**The altar of the sun god**

.

As the servant led you into yet another room you'd never seen before, and closed the door behind you, you noticed that it was not Isis alone that waited for you: Yami Malik was there as well, looking out of the window, arms folded against his chest.

"Good morning, Khemet," she welcomed, and gestured towards a fountain with fruit and bread on a polished table.

You smiled at her, "Good morning, Isis, Malik…" As a flash of lightning came to you the image of him sitting on the bed, covered in cold sweat, holding his forehead. It all seemed so far away now… but it had only been the night before. Somehow, you got the feeling that it was not you two alone that knew about that curious episode…

"Good morning, Khemet," another voice said- and until then, you had not noticed that priest Shaada was in the room.

"Oh!" you exclaimed clumsily, "I had… not seen you."

He nodded gravely. "Was it that you didn't have a good night's rest?" he ventured, and his tone of voice was innocent, _but_…

"Oh no, I…" and you trailed off- "I actually slept quite well…"

Yami Malik didn't even as flinch, he kept looking out of the window at the Nile below, quiet. You yourself weren't really sure _why_ you were being so secretive about the incident of the previous night. Or maybe you were? What if they decided that Yami Malik was a dangerous thing to have about? That the shadows found him appetizing? Would they have him killed? All that crossed your mind in the seconds it took you to sit by the table and grab a slice of bread.

Isis observed both of you, and exchanged some unreadable looks with Shaada before she spoke: "We thought it fit to tell you that there will be a royal event tomorrow evening".

You looked at her. "A royal event?"

"Yes," her eyes easily met yours, "A dance to honor our neighbors ofAssyria"

You wondered how you had never seen any kind of preparations going on, but Isis readily explained that the royal dance would be held in the main courtyard, in another wing.

A slave knocked on the door and entered. "Miss Khemet?"

You nodded, andIsissmiled at you in a manner you deemed as 'sweet'.

"We could gather some courageous souls that will help with the western garden," she informed, and the slave said, "If you would follow me…"

Looking at Isis, Malik, Shaada, you smiled unconfidently and left the place.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The door closed in the most absolute silence. When Yami Malik turned round to face the priests, the bright light from the window made him just a dark silhouette against the clear sky.

"The shadows flocked to the palace last night," Shaada said gravely.

A rueful smirk toyed in Yami Malik's lips, "They may have," he taunted. But that was as far as he meant to go. He knew that they had been absolutely out of his control.

"Isissaid to wait, but it cannot be!" the priest said, raising his voice, a slight note of ire lapping at the last words. "It cannot be," he repeated, "If it should endanger our Pharaoh…"

Yami Malik narrowed his eyes, but Isis interrupted before he could say anything.

"Shaada," she said gently, "I've seen it- the Tauk has shown it to me. This won't be how the darkness comes to us. This man and this woman are messengers from the Gods…"

Shaada clenched his fists in impotence.

"Try his soul," the priestess offered, "See it with the Ankh and decide, Shaada."

The priest raised his head sternly, and shot Yami Malik a terrible glare.

Yami Malik, who had remained silent, and was slightly amused by the little argument between the two priests, allowed himself another smirk.

"See into me, priest Shaada," he offered, unfolding his arms and stretching them to his sides, inviting him, taunting him, "And tell me then, if it's a soul what you find there," and he chuckled privately. The concerned look Shaada crossed with Isis did not escape him: he might be powerless, but somehow, he still invoked fear into the hearts of those he spoke to.

Shaada took the Millennium Ankh, that hung from his neck like a beautiful ornament, and raised it.

.

It was all darkness around him as he came to, somewhere inside Yami Malik's soulroom. His eyes took too long to get used to the dark, that and the soft glow of the Ankh allowed him to discern vague figures- columns, hieroglyphs. He found himself fearing that fathomless darkness that haunted beyond the figures. The air was thick with magic, too. He half-stumbled his way to a door he could open with the universal key he was carrying, and the chamber he came into was something he had never experienced before.

The atmosphere there was arcane, and a single flame burnt on a stone altar, profusely decorated with ritual hieroglyphics.

He felt himself being pulled out of that man's soul in that very moment, and when he opened his eyes again, he stood in the room in the palace again, Isis to his right, Yami Malik before him.

The blond Egyptian opened his eyes seconds later. Though depthless, and an unnatural shade of lavender, they possessed a light of their own… or did it come from the glowing eye of Horus on his forehead?

"A being of darkness like you has a shrine to the lord of lords, the sun god Ra," Shaada said, eyes wide open.

Yami Malik merely smirked. "I like him."

In turn,Isislooked at Shaada and spoke: "Only two nights, Shaada," she pleaded, "This is business of the Gods. We must not interfere."

_Two nights_… Yami Malik had heard that clearly. Could it be…?

Shaada looked for a long time at Yami Malik, his stance and eyes showing absolute mistrust.

"It shall be as you say, Isis," he finally conceded, and she swiftly nodded and left, silently and suddenly. When the door closed behind her, it was as if she had never even _been_ in the room.

"You, omen of our Gods: your soul is darkness, yet you pray to Ra. We, priests, will be observing you," Shaada said sternly, "The woman as well."

"Her…" Yami Malik worded slowly, narrowing his eyes in a hostile way.

To his surprise, Shaada walked up to him, past him, and stopped when his shoulders barely touched Malik's.

"Do not take your lust or rage out on this woman," Shaada whispered in his ear, "If her blood comes to your hands, you will be cursed."

Yami Malik glared scornfully at him, but inwardly, it made him unsteady. He was a superstitious person- had always been, had _had_ to be. He'd been born and raised in midst curses, prophecies. He'd believed, and witnessed, much. It was thus unpredictable and troublesome, that such a warning came to him… it had suddenly burdened him with a restriction.

_Lust_, he thought with some faint amusement, _Well, _that_ won't trouble me much…_

.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

**Sorry for the very late update! (Coroner's Court is draining me)**

**What do you think of Yami Malik's soul room?**

**Thanks the world to dear ilovemanicures for the review! **

**Where are you guys? I miss you...! I'm stranded if you don't review :/**

**-Me**


	21. Birthmark

_A curse, or a..._

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><p><strong>21<strong>

**Birthmark**

The day was excruciatingly long for you. You had been carrying heaps of dry grass from the garden to the stables most of the morning, then plants of all sizes, then had helped dig holes on the ground to plant them…

All you wanted, when the sun finally came down, was to lie on your bed and sleep a week on a row. You had hardly had time to think of anything during the day- after grabbing something to eat, stripping off your clothes filthy with dirt and sweat, and slipping on your dear nightgown; you found that your mind had almost been cleansed, to the point that all your recollections were a vague haze of things you were not sure had or had not happened.

But you were so tired you couldn't fall asleep. Time went by, and you laid on your bed, eyes wide open, trying to discern Yami Malik's breathing from the sounds of the night. You'd seen him come into the room, from the glow of the candle on the other side of the drape. His black shadow against the cotton had gotten clothes off, then on, then he'd got into bed and blown out the candle.

You wondered what the day had been like for him.

Isis had come to you during the midday break, when the sun was too strong for anyone to work in it. She said she'd seen him draw to him all the dark energies in the palace, had advised you to be careful.

As you looked at the stars out of your window, you found you didn't want to think you were watching over him. In the morning, when you'd last seen him, you'd felt your eyes linger on him a moment longer than necessary…

**xxx**

What woke you up later that night was heartwretchingly strong. You sat on your bed, bolted upright, desperately grabbed for a candle and rushed over to Malik's side. Your bare feet felt like one with the cold stone floor, but it was nothing like the ice that was building around your heart- you felt so cold inside, so afraid. So unprotected.

A whirlpool of frenzied shadows circled Yami Malik that night too. They brought his thin, black mist to their jaws and made it become one with them: you felt their evil, their power.

"Malik!" you called, like you had called after him the night before- but he did not wake up, and this time, you knew what would happen to you if you crossed the sinister circle they drew around him: the memory of their teeth on your skin was still painfully fresh.

Placing the candle on the ground, you took an unconfident step towards him. These shadows were thicker, they were silent too.

A step, then another, and the last step you needed to take took you ages of willpower.

They launched at you again, shrieking in ear-piercing frequencies, but Yami Malik wasn't waking up. The arm you stretched towards him was bloodied already from the teeth, you managed to grasp his shoulder, then, pushing your way past the maddened shadows, you reached to place your whole palm on the glowing eye on his forehead.

You fainted before you could see if he'd woken up or not.

**xxx**

His eyes opened on their own to see how a frenetic mass of darkness and dark energy turned to attack him. Already he felt their teeth gnawing on his arms- and a foreign weight on his chest, and the feeling and scent of blood…

A bright white light engulfed the room, flooding it once more with liquid starlight. As suddenly as it was come, it was gone, only the candle remained to remind him that it was a still Egyptian night.

Yami Malik sat up and got out of bed, and in doing so, your unconscious body slid off him, off the mattress and onto the floor. He flexed his hand- some seconds ago, it had been covered in blood, chewed on by the shadow creatures- and contemplated the imprints of teeth that had been left on both of his armbands. Each mark was the size of his thumb. He unfastened them and got them off… he'd just get new ones.

He walked to the window and looked to the darkness outside.

"Damn," he muttered, "One more night…" He side-glanced at you, that were beginning to wake up.

You felt sore and dizzy as you gripped the edge of the bed to help you stand up, although every bitemark, every drop of blood had been cleansed by the heavenly flash of light.

"Will it happen again?" you asked Yami Malik, as you sat down on his bed waiting for your sight to settle.

"Tomorrow," he answered tensely.

He avoided looking at you: he knew he was indebted to you.

The world seemed to be spinning. It all fell into focus eventually, he stood by the window, and there was not much left of the candle.

_You_ did look at him- he wasn't wearing his golden armbands, his hair was more disheveled than usual, but, what called your attention, was that nothing covered his upper half- it was the first time you saw, that a large tattoo took up most of his back. It was a strange tattoo too: it had a relief, as if it were engraved on his skin… you could tell it from the way the candlelight hit it and the different shadow it had.

"Hey Malik, what's that tattoo?"

He looked at you over his shoulder with a smirk, his trademark unreadable look, somewhere between amusement and despise. "It's a… birthmark."

_A birthmark?_ You thought, _Not too likely_…

"It's nice". You meant it. You liked it.

He turned round to face you: "My father thought something similar," he said in a low voice, and chuckled to himself.

"Father?" it was just too odd, you'd never thought… "You have a father? A mother?"

He chuckled again, but not in a pleasant way. "I had, once." He looked straight into your eyes, shot fear into your veins once more: now he wasn't chuckling any more- "I skinned him alive, years ago. We're done with the interview, my dear. Get out."

His voice was dead serious, and you were thankful that he didn't have any weapon at reach. Because you had the feeling that not even after saving his life _twice_ he'd be willing to spare you.

_I skinned him myself…_

You left quietly, taking the candle with you, trying to keep off your head that, if what you had heard him say was true, you would be saving his life once more- a third time.

.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

**The second night the shadows try to eat Yami Malik... what will happen now? How much in danger is he?**

**.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Aaliyan from dA who drew very beautiful fanart that can be found here: http: /aaliyan. deviantart .com/art/An-Encounter-Ill-Never-Forget-289878270**

**A sea of thanks to dearest Koolkatx, ilovemanicures, Hana-Liatris for their nice reviews!**

**... and sorry for the late update. I'm back at school and it's all messy/depressing/blah**

**-Me**


	22. Hades

**22**

**Hades**

"Khemet, I must ask a favor of you," Isis said that evening. "There is a harp in the music room, in the other wing of the palace. Could you bring it to us?"

You nodded. The palace looked brighter and more magnificent than ever- torches everywhere brought the hieroglyphics alive, the fountains and palm-trees and gardens, the statues. There were tables with exquisite food come from all over the kingdom, and musicians in all the corners. No riches were left unshown that night; everything was lavish and opulent. You felt like partaking in that warm glee that floated in the air. Although the Assyrians were peoples of terrible fame, there was nothing but good feelings between those present.

"What is it like?" you asked her.

She explained to you how to get it- usually, slaves were not allowed into that music room- it was only for the priests and scribes. It was kept in a fine wooden box on a shelf. From what she told you, it would be rather easy to find the room. So you gathered your courage and set out to find it.

…

The halls in that wing were torch-lit, gravely silent and empty. Soon enough you found the room, opened the door and entered.

You had not had too much time to look around, when a strange noise coming from outside called your attention. The room had a window, and as you turned to look at it, you saw how a hook-like device flew into the room from outside, and fastened itself to the windowsill.

Evidently, someone was about to come in… and from the manner in which they were doing it, nothing good could be about to happen.

As a tanned hand gripped the windowsill, you panicked and hid in the first place you could think of: behind a sofa. It was a place the torch-light didn't reach much, for once the shadows were being of use to you.

A young man climbed up the rope fixed to the sill and jumped into the room, a smug smirk plastered on his dark face. You heard him walk around the room, inspecting its contents. He dropped a sack to the floor and began filling it with objects of incalculable value…

When he came before the sofa, he stopped, and you held your breath in anxiety.

"What have we here?" he said, snatching your elbow and pulling you up from your hiding place. The face caught you by surprise. He wore a clear-colored robe, a beige shenti and countless pieces of gold jewelry.

You should have been trembling like a rabbit, but he was more or less familiar to you by the moment. You met his eyes serenely.

"Ain't you familiar, hon?" he asked with a snarl.

"Aren't you too?" you answered- it was odd, anyway: you knew him in the present, _he_ should not know you in the past. Whatever.

He smirked broadly, which gave his scarred face something of brutal and something of handsome.

"Am I?"… he was toying with you now, you felt it in his disgusting smirk. He was shamelessly mocking you! 3000 years into the past, he still irritated you to no end.

"Or it may have been my mistake, Bakura."

He seemed deeply pleased to hear you say his name- pleased to see you knew him, probably heard of him?

"What are you doing here?" you dared to ask, very aware that his calloused hand still gripped your elbow. "You're insane to come to the palace".

"Yeah," he conceded, "But ain't it fair? Me and the pharaoh, we're both celebrating!" And he began laughing. He shoved you against the sofa, and you collapsed onto it with a yelp.

.

A hawk flew into the room and landed on Bakura's shoulder. He welcomed it with a dark scowl.

"You, eh?" he asked the bird, and strode to the window. Whatever it was he saw through it made his scowl deepen.

"Damn them," he said, and spat on the floor. "Well, my visit was a brief thing today," he commented, grabbing the sack and throwing it over his shoulder.

"I like to leave one or two of you alive," he told you, a foot already on the windowsill. Was he crazy? Did he mean to jump? "…I like it when they tell the story. I missed the raping part this time, I wouldn't want to disappoint you, but I like my head far more than I would your favors, kid."

And with such a final statement, he jumped into the dark night.

Why did those things keep happening to you?

"Yeah, nice to see you too, Bakura," you said to no one. "Next time Isis wants a bloody harp, let her get it herself."

…

Isis and a dark-haired girl rushed to you when you came into the ball chamber.

"Oh, Khemet, I saw it too late… are you hurt?" Isis asked, and you saw her concerned for the first time. "We've taken care of that already…"

You sighed. "I'm fine… I even brought you the harp. He escaped, didn't he?"

Isis nodded.

"We're always two seconds too late," the girl complained, "We're never gonna catch that tombrobber…" She blew a strand of hair off her face. "I'm Mana, oh, I forgot to introduce myself."

She seemed friendly. You smiled. "I'm Khemet… a pleasure."

"You're so pale," she said, circling you, inspecting you with curiosity, "Not what I imagined when Master spoke of you… what magic can you do?"

Isis looked in silence and amusement at the young girl. How old was she? Fifteen, maybe?

"Magic?" you repeated, "None as of yet," you told her, not too proudly. What were all of them expecting? Yami Malik's female counterpart? _He_ had magic in him, as much of a sadistic creep as he was. _You'd_ seen it.

Your only power seemed to be that of being dragged along and laughed at. Yippee.

Mana pouted. "Oh, well… there must be something to you if the Gods sent you!" And she was bubbly again.

"Priestess Isis, did you introduce her to my Master?" she asked eagerly.

Isis shook her head. "Only Shaada and I have talked to them these days…"

She seemed very happy to hear that. "Oh, wonderful! Come Khemet, come! You _must_ come meet my Master, Priest Mahaado! He's the _best_ magician in the _whole_ palace!"

Isis stifled a chuckle. "Just don't let Priest Seth hear you say that," was her advice.

You didn't follow their conversation much, but as Mana grabbed your wrist and pulled you along past the crowd of merry people, you felt like maybe you _could_ enjoy yourself that evening.

…

The Gods had graced the Pharaoh with a splendid, if dark, night. The air was cool, but it wasn't windy, and all the fragrances in the surrounding gardens enveloped the open-roofed hall, of decorated walls that looked golden in the torchlight.

You found it was very easy to believe in magic as you walked around the large place, marveling at all you saw. Mana had run off with a girl who suspiciously resembled Tea (wouldn't the similarities with the present ever end?), making you wonder if there was any legal age restriction for drinking alcohol… No, there probably wasn't: those were stupid rules for the stupid people in the present. That thought caught you off-guard. You _were_ thinking people in the present were stupid, yes- but how couldn't you? What you were living at the moment couldn't compare with anything you had ever lived before. It didn't have to do with the exotic dancers that drifted between the guests, with the sensuous music or the heavily perfumed night air. The people felt different- friendlier, simpler. You didn't want to rush into conclusions, after all, you had not spent that much time among those Egyptians to effectively characterize them. However, the feeling you got…

You ambled aimlessly until you found a secluded settee, where you sat down. Your feet felt funny inside the Egyptian cloth shoes. A servant woman waltzed around offering delicate pastries, but you weren't hungry, you thanked her. You spent a while observing the passing people: they seemed to have come from everywhere in the Ancient World, not only from Assyria. You could guess from the mixture of different typical clothing.

You saw Yami Malik the moment your eyes strayed to a neglected set of statues. The torchlight brought forward only their mysterious animal heads, the rest was a game of shadows in which he also took part. But his golden armbands and necklace and earrings gave him away, they glistened with the dancing fire, and he would never be able to conceal them.

You shrugged and came up to him. You had not seen him again since the previous night –those nightmarish moments you shared- but you didn't want to talk about it. Only perhaps get some words out of him… and one day, if you were lucky, maybe he would explain to you all that he never had: that dream, that felt so faraway now, was a good starting point.

He side-glanced at you. "Having fun?" he sneered.

You looked up at him. "Yes, it's a very pretty place, too. You?" He didn't look like he was.

"_Dying_ of excitement," he answered tersely.

You leaned against one of those anthropomorphic statues, that towered a good two meters over you.

"Who is this?" you asked after a while, seeing that he was not too prone to conversing with you.

"Horus."

You blinked. "What is he?"

He glared at you, evaluating you. Seeing if you were annoying him on purpose only because you knew he couldn't harm you. It struck him as odd not to find such feelings in you: you were only curious.

He shut his eyes. "A solar deity."

"But wasn't Ra the sun God?"

Yes, curiosity and what the hell, he was annoyed anyway. He'd never been a guy with much of a patience. Besides… shouldn't _everybody_ know those things? Those were the primordial Gods… and didn't humans love Gods?

"Absolutely, my dear," he said smoothly, "And Atum, Khepri, Khnum…"

He let his words fade into the mixture of voices and music that floated in the air, but you wanted him to keep on speaking. He sounded like he knew a lot, too- he just didn't seem to feel like telling you. You tried your luck.

"Why so many?" you asked, looking at the passing people; deliberately avoiding making eye contact with him.

When you thought he would not answer, you heard him say, "There is a god for every aspect of the sun."

Encouraged by his voice, you asked again, "And Ra?"

You felt his glare penetrate your skull, almost. A sliver of fear tickled as you swallowed.

"The midday sun," was all he said. And before he could tell you to leave, you left on your own- and he never saw the grin that crossed your face as you left, either. It was the closest to a normal conversation you had ever had with him.

…

When Mana found you again, she introduced you to some foreign teens, all of more or less her age. You smiled politely at them, but thought, "_Oh… this kind of makes me feel outdated. What the hell?_"

On all account, it was better than being alone with your thoughts, so you readily joined them as they discussed a topic that seemed to thrill them: priest Akhenaden. Although they seemed to be foreigners, it appeared that they were well acquainted with life in the palace.

Personally, you were not too fond of the old man- he had been civil enough when he'd taken you around the dungeons, but then again his name brought that precise memory along; and you didn't particularly like it.

He spent hours and hours locked up in some shrine called Veju, praying, praying… or so they said, and some of the kids there thought there was more to it than just praying…

"He must be having an affair," the black girl whispered, making Mana chuckle.

"He's too lucky that a woman would look at _him_," the Greek boy stated. They laughed. How had you gotten yourself into that, again?

"O look, Khemet is spooked," Mana cooed, "I wouldn't have thought you could get spooked after hanging around Malik," she said, but not with a sarcastic intent- a round of laughter followed, and you blushed.

The black girl oh-ed. "You mean that man over there?" she asked, gesturing swiftly towards Yami Malik, somewhere in the shadows across the room.

Mana nodded, a guilty expression showing up on her juvenile face. "We were watching you two earlier…" she confessed.

"Why would you do that?" you asked, traces of blush still there. It was going a bit too far… observing you… and telling you about it! But she was just a girl… (not that you were THAT MUCH OLDER… anyway.)

"Well you are like the Persephone," the Greek said, "if he be then Hades."

You looked at him in bewilderment. "_What?_"

"The myth…" he was beginning to explain, in complete innocence about the nature of your outburst, but Mana interrupted him.

"We just wondered if you'd come together because you are… together. You know. Kind of like Isis and Shaada…"

"Isis and Shaada…?" you started to ask, but shook your head then, "_Off track!,_" you mentally scolded yourself, "_Absolutely off track!_"

"No, kids, we're not together… together," you explained. Where did such a patience come from?

They laughed again.

"You should see your face," the black girl said as she laughed.

You sighed in defeat.

…

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

**I love this chapter! It's a personal favorite, I think. With Yami Malik standing there mysterious among the statues... *sigh*. Also, first appearance of King-of-Thieves!Bakura... he's a real asshole. You'll see.**

**And love it. Like we all do 3**

**Sorry for the late update. I've been watching Hetalia, and... and generally dealing with life at university.**

**Special thanks to Ren 000 who reviewed today and reminded me I had to update. And of course, special love to my super special awesome reviewers! I'd be in the sewers without you guys :')**

**Thoughts, comments, suggestions- you know. I love you!**


	23. A debt of blood

**23**

**A debt of blood**

After the 'royal event', everyone went to sleep. It was really late, but for a third time, your eyes shot open that night. There was a blackness too thick for words; the air in the room was icy. It felt unlike the other nights- still, electric. You felt very tired, as if you'd been drained too… Too? With deep dread, you lit the candle on the table beside your bed. It was a new candle. An innocently empty room appeared before your eyes, but you were far from feeling relieved.

There was no sense of déjà vu in walking around the drape to Yami Malik's side, but instead, the sensation of coming near a void that itched to suck you into it.

A figure knelt by his bedside. Its head was hunched over his chest, and it gave its back to you: a cloak of black fog hung from the black body. Like the embodiment of the shadows, they danced around it and twirled at the edges of its clothing.

You stood on your little island of candlelight, watching, speechless and frozen.

"Malik…" you called, but your voice came out fragmented and strangled.

The figure rose its head, and twisted its neck to look at you. Your knees threatened to give way under you. The vision was nightmarish- for eyes, all it had were two small shiny dots that scanned you; the face was black and featureless. A seamless opening it had for a mouth, and a long tongue hung and snaked from side to side of it, dripping a substance that looked like ink.

"_Ahh_" it said, in a terrible voice with multiple layers, and spoke no more, but rose to its feet, towering over the bed and over you. The shadows tamely shifted around it; and you felt so frightened that you couldn't even bring yourself to stop looking at it.

You could feel Yami Malik lying still, _why didn't he wake up_? It was this thought that caused your eyes to drift his way. There was an opening on his chest- like a wound, from where a dark liquid oozed, dripping onto the linen sheets.

Gritting your teeth in terror, you looked once more at the being. It advanced towards you: slowly, calculating each step.

"_I am the Necrophades,_" the voice drifted to you, it was everywhere and nowhere, it reverberated inside your head and immediately caused you a splitting headache, "_I take back the darkness I gave. I'll have the darkness in your heart too…_"

_No_, you thought desperately, _Where's that flash of light now? Please! Malik must wake up…_

That dark being exerted a devastating influence on you: _let yourself go_, it seemed to coo_, sleep, give yourself away…_ but once again, you were pulled to your senses by a feeble thought- _he's in danger… _We_ are in danger_… Your head felt like it would cave in at any moment.

"Malik!" you called again, knowing it was useless, but your voice breaking the silence gave you strength to move, finally move, towards him-

Breaking the circle of the shadows puppet to this Necrophades creature was thousandfold worse than you could have ever dreamed. They did not sink their teeth into your flesh like they had done a previous night, but they spiderwebbed around you, encasing you, slicing the candle into several chunks.

The room plunged into darkness. The presence of the shadows became maddening, each movement you made elicited a screech from the threads of sticky fog attached to you- your hearing collapsed, the strings buried into your skin, past your veins, into your bones: they blazed, they hurt like hundreds of damned sharpened wires, and when you let out a strangled cry of agony, the shadow being laughed; and the laughter penetrated your pores into your soul.

_I'll have the darkness in your heart too…_

Each movement you made was torture, your bare feet slipped on what you guessed was blood- your blood- and you advanced blindly in the darkness.

Its voice wrapped around you; telling you things no human words could reproduce- he spoke of death, betrayal, loneliness, fear and apathy spread further into your heart; pain numbed you until you stumbled and fell on your palms to the cold stone floor. But in doing so, your shoulder grazed the wooden bedside. The image of Yami Malik sleeping came from the darkness into your mind; like a distant, hazy beacon.

Useless in the darkness, hindered by the pain of thousands of bloodied cuts, and lost in the Necrophades' miasma of words, you clung to the image of that person, you barely remembered who he was, but you hoisted yourself up from the floor to the soft mattress, and, fistful after fistful of sheets, reached his warm skin.

The spiderweb of shadows tightened around your fingers as you felt your way up his arm, his neck, to his forehead- where no eye of Wedjat shone, where you saw nothing but endless darkness.

"Wake up now, Malik," you pleaded in a whisper, "Make this go away…" Now that you were close to him, you could hear his faint breathing.

On your shoulder, you felt a hand of ice.

You'd come too far, to end like that- swallowed into the darkness. It pulled you backwards, you felt how the shadows curled around your body and pushed you. Summoning the last of your strength, you brought your forehead to Yami Malik's and thought, desperately, _let him wake up_.

After that, the Necrophades pulled you into its dark, deadly embrace, and you lost consciousness.

_Let him wake up_…

The words echoed inside his head. The eye of Wedjat appeared once more on his forehead as he opened his eyes. He immediately felt the disturbance in the shadows, the smell of blood washed over him and he felt it on him too, sticky and wet.

Everything was darkness.

"_You came from the shadows,_" he heard, a voice not unfamiliar. He had heard it once, many years ago.

When he'd come to exist.

"_I gave your will to live a life of its own, to disrupt the course of fate,_" it said, "_But you were fooled, and misused it. And now you must give back what you were given, because the shadows are hungry, and the shadows must be fed._"

"Fool," Yami Malik muttered, "You gave me nothing. I came to be on my own. I owe you nothing."

The shadows around him spoke: _she was not enough. We want you… we want you back._

"I will never go back!" he said firmly, and the shadows sprung into a frenzy, jumping chaotically all around him.

_"You have no power to defy us!_" the voice of the Necrophades spoke again, "_You will never see the light of day again, petty creature!_"

Yami Malik was standing in the middle of the room. He was blind in the dark too, in the timeless shadows he had once commanded, but he could _feel_ the objects in the room… the bed to his right, the thin drape to his left, the window and the sky behind and the skeletal body of the Necrophades holding the limp frame of a woman in his arms.

He closed his eyes: he envisioned his soul room. The stone chamber, the shrine of Ra.

In a whisper, he said the spell.

"_Please hear my cry..._

_Envelope the desert with your glow..._

_Winged Dragon of Ra...__"_

A warm, golden glow bathed the room. It took Yami Malik by surprise indeed, because that warmth was unlike _anything_ he'd felt before: it reached past his skin, into the sea of bad feelings that was his soul.

A figure shone like the sun mere feet ahead of him. All about it was divine, the outline, the feathers, and Yami Malik fell, speechless, on his knees.

Before him stood, in all its might and holiness, the Winged Dragon of Ra.

It looked so… alive. Nothing like the holograms he'd once seen of it, no… it was pure, sublime… Godlike.

As it took a couple of steps towards the Necrophades, it faded in a banshee-like screech, dropping the limp body it was draining as it vanished into shreds of fog.

The body, _your_ body, did not fall to the floor. It levitated a meter from the ground, wrapped in the God's warm golden light. Yami Malik came up to it and picked it up in his arms, took it to the bed and laid it there.

_If her blood comes to your hands, you shall be cursed_.

He turned to face the mighty beast, that remained in the room, looking at him intently. The specks of humanity in him were in communion with it- like an understanding passing between them.

Yami Malik bent his right knee before the Winged Dragon of Ra, and hunched his head as the God roamed freely through his soul, probing him. That God, his only creed in life- his only companion as he had spent endless hours in the womb of darkness that had given shape to him; telling him the time would come for him to prove he was more than that- shadows.

_The shadows are timeless, but I am timeless too_, Yami Malik heard within him. No voice said that, but the words were clear to him, and they came with a warmth that put his soul at ease.

_You are a being of evil, I am the Sun, there is no life without me. Once, you chose your allegiance: I choose too._

The God didn't speak to him again, but it was beyond enough for him. He raised his head in bewilderment, the Dragon's regal eyes were fixed on him.

For the first time in his life, as he stood up and rose his hand to caress the God's feathers, he felt fragile, unsteady.

.

.

"_Impossible…!_" Priest Seth exclaimed under his breath, only loud enough for priests Shaada, Mahaado and Isis to listen.

The power of evil had been unsupportable that night. The previous nights they had only felt it because they were highly trained, and they were always on guard, to protect the palace. But it had been terribly strong that night, and although Isis had told them all how everything was meant to unfold… they flocked to the door of that room, guided by their sense of duty.

Such a force of darkness _could not_ haunt the palace.

The four priests had looked at each other quizzically: none of them wore their ceremonial clothing, evidently they had jumped out of bed, grabbed their Millennium Items and ran to the epicenter of the evil presence. They had all remembered Isis' words, too: _This evil came from a time that is not ours, we shan't interfere- if death should happen, for either of those sent by the Gods, we mustn't meddle. _

But they were there, nonetheless. They'd entered that room, where the shadows were thick and alive, and waited. Because something was taking place… Something over which they had no control whatsoever. They were mere sidewatchers.

A golden light, of an entity, a presence like none of them had ever felt before, curled out of the darkness; an orb of light that wiped the force of the shadows from the place and the palace, and transformed gracefully into the most majestic creature- a dragon of plumage like flames; and a power immeasurable.

They had all seen the creature in hieroglyphic scripts- they all recognized it as an arcane might, a mythical being: the Winged Dragon of Ra.

"_Impossible…!_" Priest Seth exclaimed under his breath, only loud enough for priests Shaada, Mahaado and Isis to listen.

That peculiar man, the one that felt like darkness and evoked a distant feel of fear in their hearts, Malik, knelt before the God. He stood up then, closed the breach that separated him from the majestic being, and stretched his hand out to touch it. They did think he would burst into flames, since Ra was the embodiment of the Sun. However… nothing like that happened.

There was a magic foreign to them in the scene. The Winged Dragon of Ra remained in the room until Yami Malik glanced over his shoulder at them. Then it gradually faded, taking its daylight away too.

It all became darkness again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Sorry guys. Late update is late, no excuses.

But I'm overwhelmed with boring college stuff, and hit a hetalia-inspiration streak that was too tempting to resist. I've been writing strange Denmark x Norway shots, feel free to check them out. Only bear in mind I don't write yaoi, so... yeah, that's why they're strange.

Returning to this delicious other universe, what's going to happen to YM now? ...and to you :P ? what are the priests planning to do now that they found Ra chilling with the creepy foreigners?

Fair warning? If this story was weird up to know, it only gets weirder in the coming chapters, and, help me God, it gets even weirder and more twisted and considerably more violent in future installments. Really twisted and really bloody. Nothing. You were warned ;)

Your reviews inspire me to go on, honest!


	24. The gift of Ra

**24**

**The gift of Ra**

Yami Malik picked his sleeveless robe from a stool and threw it on, comfortable once more about the darkness around him. He was vaguely dazed, the softness of Ra's feathers lingered on his fingertips.

The darkness was timeless, the God Cards were timeless too. He wondered whether….?

He focused on that thought. Could it be possible, that the Millennium Items were timeless as well? That their impressions of the past coexisted with their impressions of the future and present? If that were so… He imagined he still possessed the Rod. He imagined he could feel its power under his control again; how the darkness bent before his command.

Soon enough, a faint golden glow spread through the room.

Priest Seth rose his arm in amazement: the glow came from the eye of Horus on the Millennium Rod, which he held high. In all the years he'd had custody of the magical item, he'd never seen it do such a thing.

Yami Malik smirked broadly. It was true, then. The Rod was not insensitive to his command- that was enough for him at the moment. The memory of Ra had left him with a feeling of content as he had never experienced before.

"How…?" Seth's voice ripped open the silence, and the priests seemed to come back to life. Mahaado made the Ring light up as well, and Shaada left the room and returned with a merrily burning torch.

Isis rushed to Yami Malik's bed, where a you bloodied beyond recognition laid unconscious.

"Why did this happen?" she asked, a note of worry in her voice.

Yami Malik shrugged. "I don't know. The other times a white light appeared and cleaned us up."

Silence welled up.

"It didn't, and you convoked Ra," Seth stated, in a voice that showed that he said it to try to shake the disbelief out of himself, as he leant against the wall, arms crossed. He was not in the least amused by the situation. Not even the pharaoh had ever called out the mythical being.

Yami Malik shrugged again. "It happened." And truth be told, he was fond of that memory.

Isis looked up at the priests: "Help me, Shaada, Mahaado: we'll take her to the temple of Hathor. She mustn't die."

Shaada shot Yami Malik a terrible warning look. But he met him with collected eyes. If harm had come to you, he had not been the one to cause it.

.

.

Yami Malik didn't pay much attention to what he saw as the priests took both of you to the temple of Hathor, only dark corridors, the dark palace gardens, the dark, starry sky above. The drifting scent of the Nile the wind brought from the West, and the sounds of ancient wilderness.

The temple, a low construction with large, beautiful statues of the goddess, was still within the palace grounds. Only Isis went in, and when she came out, half a dozen veiled priestesses followed her.

They had the unconscious body taken into the temple immediately, and priests Seth and Mahaado left in silence.

Aided by mellow torchlight, the priestesses grouped around Yami Malik.

"What the…" he murmured, as they inspected him and pinched his skin, and, one of them, brought a finger to his chest and pulled it back covered in a black fluid.

Oh, yes, then he remembered- the Necrophades had done that; it'd tried to suck his heart out, or something. Now that he thought about it, it _did_ hurt, but it made him no difference. Even in a human body, pain still felt somehow sweet… to the point in which he hadn't taken notice that there was a hole open in his chest. He closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling of the cold air pulsating against the exposed tissue.

Isis and Shaada talked quietly with the head priestess. She didn't know what it was, the wound on the man's chest. It did not leak blood, it was a black substance that smelled earthen- but it _was_ deep, and it must be closed.

"You know, high priests, what the rules of our temple say," she told them quietly, "…of men, but; if he be what you tell me, then there is no other place he will be better looked after."

Shaada nodded gravely. "We're all human in the end, beyond differences in the flesh."

Isis smiled softly at her fellow priest's words. They entrusted the strange foreigner to them, then. And they both left for the royal palace as well.

.

.

His recollections afterwards were vague, like flashes in the dark.

He was lying on a hard surface, looking at the shadows of the priestesses the torches casted on the stone ceiling.

Perhaps they had given him something to numb him… He drifted into sleep and woke up continually.

Their little fingers danced on his chest like brownish spiders, they wiped it clean with cloth soaked in ice-cold liquid.

Incense and ritual scents flooded the room.

He was sleeping, covered in thick beads of sweat, as they stitched up the unnatural wound- a disgusting opening the size of a fist.

.

.

The sunlight that awoke him didn't hint at morning. It was probably early noon already, but as he tried to move, he discovered with horror that his body didn't respond to him.

_I remember…_ he thought, _They brought me to this temple…_

Some time elapsed until he could bring his hand to his heart, where a neat vertical suture was all there remained of the events of the fateful night. He also noticed, with an unknown feeling of relief, that in no moment they had touched the robe he wore, now tattered, bloodied and filthy, that concealed his hieroglyphic tattoo. They had, however, left clean clothes for him on a low table nearby. It made him chuckle. All he wore was stained black, with that substance that wasn't blood but had nonetheless come out of his heart.

_His_ heart, he was not used to it yet… to being human, to _feeling_ like a human. He distinctly recalled the warmth in his chest as he'd stroked the _real_ Winged Dragon of Ra.

But yes, he had won himself to the darkness.

He had not given it much thought the days before that night: he had not always been confident of coming out victorious… but he guessed such a doubting came with being human.

_It is not over yet, Zork Necrophades_, Yami Malik thought grimly, _But the next time that destiny throws us together, you won't get it as smooth… I'll see to it._ He was sure that somehow, somewhere, the greatest evil entity, the one from which the Shadow Realm once originated, could hear him.

It would not see quietly how a fleck of its own shadows had come to live, and defied it.

.

.

Yami Malik sat up.

He'd laid down the whole afternoon, deep in thought, and there was still something he could not settle. Call it some kind of curiosity, though the idea bothered him greatly.

"Curiosity… the hell."

He stood up, and slowly paced around the small room. The window overlooked a lush garden; too exuberant to be Egyptian. The light that percolated the leaves into the chamber was tinged green, and the air was light and easy to breathe, heavily perfumed with a scent of flowers as he had never smelled before.

His body felt strangely heavy, however, and as he changed clothes, these felt weird against his skin… too soft, maybe? It was as if his senses were enhanced overnight.

He meant to find you as he abandoned the room to roam the corridors, although he hadn't a clue as to where he was going. He wanted to reassure himself that he had not dreamt everything, which was something stupid in his own opinion… what room was there to doubt anything? Such a feeling of confusion was new to him, too. "_Whatever the hell really happened that night?_" he asked himself.

A chubby priestess ran towards him. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Would you come with me? Our High Priestess wants to talk to you, now that you're awake. Why did you leave your room?"

"I was bored," Yami Malik shrugged and followed her.

.

.

The High Priestess of Hathor looked at him intently. Her head was neatly shaven, and her eyes seemed too large because of their thick kohl rimming.

"Don't you feel different?" the woman asked him.

He replied by fixing his vacant eyes on her.

She didn't seem to mind him. "It's because of the poison of darkness taken out of your blood."

His brow creased. _Just… what?_

"Something drank it out of you," she explained, "That wound you had reeked of a rotting evil presence."

He remained silent. He couldn't see where it was she was going with such a speech.

"At some point, something made it change- turned that evil poison into blood. You must thank the Gods."

The image of Ra flashed before his eyes. Maybe he _should_ thank them.

"Follow me," she instructed, and led him through a series of ample corridors.

"Now that we've let the skin breathe, you must get that bandaged, young man," the woman indicating, using the same voice Isis had used when scolding Malik, many years ago. He wasn't fond of having memories that were not his own.

Now and then, he remembered, suddenly, the desert at night as Malik rode his motorcycle through the isolated paths of dirt that crossed it. The images came to him void of sensations, because he had not been in control of that body back then, and he could only see, and _desire_ what he saw. He would have killed to know how the wind felt as it rushed past him- what the clouds of dust smelled like.

But he had always been trapped inside his weak side's mind, always waiting.

And that one time too, when that idiot had bought the skimpy violet shirt- _Don't you dare put that thing on my body!_, Yami Malik had screamed at him, but he was never heard if Rishid was around. _Gods_, how he _loathed_ that shirt…

"Young man? … young man, are you all right?"

He was abruptly called from the depths of his mind- Just where on _Earth_ had that last thought come from…!?

He hm-ed.

"We're here," the High Priestess said patiently, smiling surreptitiously at him.

He glared back. She couldn't know his thoughts- the Gods damned her if she kept looking at him like that. He did not thank her, just nodded and went into the room.

.

* * *

><p><strong> AN**

When things get weird, they get weird. Huh. And I guess I always wanted to write a priestess with a shaven head.

There was a lot of research behind these chapters, too. I'm only not including much of it because I assume fans of YGO know their way around Egyptian mythology ;) But if you'd like an explanation of why Hathor of all goddesses and such, do not hesitate to tell me and I'll add a little glossary :)

**Also, guys. FF. Net tells me that "_Favs: 18 - Follows: 22_" ... it's really important for me to read you, guys, and no one ever comments. How can I know if I'm exploiting the story to full potential and such?**

**I'd love to hear from you. Honest :)**


	25. Days in the temple of Hathor

**25**

**Days in the temple of Hathor**

The strong herbal scents did not fully mask the smell of blood.

_If her blood comes to your hands_…

He'd be damned. Everything had indeed happened just as he remembered.

The day was dying, inside the temple it was starting to darken too.

As Yami Malik stood by the bedside, he towered over your unconscious body, covered almost totally in bandages.

Your face, scratched and bruised, looked sickeningly pale. It could have been him.

He frowned.

If he'd never woken up, the one lying there could have been him.

What reason did _you_ have to want to save him?

He owed his life to you as much as he owed it to the Winged Dragon of Ra: or more, because you had woken him from the kiss of darkness three times. _Why?_

It haunted him. He could not comprehend it- nothing bound you to him, no positive or negative feeling. Then _why_ had you ended up like that, almost dead, dying maybe, for the sake of someone who had only wanted you –ironically- dead?

It was beyond him.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, lost in paths of thought that never led him anywhere, but when he went back to his room, it was already dark, and the corridors were silent.

.

.

.

Only after a full week had passed did the priestesses consent on Yami Malik leaving the temple. He was completely recovered, and the wound had closed in a strange way, and left him no scar

The same could not be said about you. A whole week had passed, and you had not died. But you had not woken up either.

Yami Malik was not worried. But he could not explain why, one day, then two days later, at irregular intervals, he returned to watch you sleep with a deep frown settled in his forehead.

_If her blood_…

He had grown sick of remembering those words. It crossed his mind, at occasions, why the healing flash of light –whatever it was it had been- had not occurred the night he'd summoned Ra, but he didn't dwell on it much.

If he thought about it, he did often find himself observing sleeping people. But, he was used to _killing_ people after he watched then sleep, if he did linger to picture the future victim in agony.

It was beyond foreign, just standing there, seeing your chest rise and fall, and it being all so… silent.

One day, when he'd lost track of how long you'd been unconscious, you woke up. He was not there at the moment, but you picked his scent up involuntarily, almost immediately after awaking- he smelled like wet earth; but you thought you could recognize the scent anywhere.

Then you wished you had never woken up; because even shifting made healing cuts split back open.

The priestesses took good care of you for the time that followed. As you learned, they had kept herbal incenses burning the whole time, part of a rite of purification they were obliged to do: when the priests had brought you to them, your body was encased in evil energy. You remembered little of that night when the shadows had begun to break you; enough to wonder why it was that you had not died.

If you learned of the apparition of the Winged Dragon of Ra, it was by a most secret and fantastic visit, that took place perhaps a month after the great being had vanquished Zork Necrophades back to its realm of shadows.

The afternoon was quiet and hot, and boredom made you grow more and more restless as the hours passed, wishing you would be asleep instead of seeing the cloudless sky remain unchanged, out of the window. A soft cushion helped you almost to a sitting position, and all you felt like thinking of was why, although the priestesses had told you Yami Malik had now and then checked up on you, he didn't do it while you were awake.

_Well, I'm like the forbidden fruit_, you thought with some humor, _I'm there, oh-so-kill-able, and still he can't touch me… yet_. Now, honestly, you believed there had to be some other reason, but you didn't feel well enough to try to figure anything out.

The door to your room opened quietly. You only noticed it because those days in total silence had sharpened your hearing.

"Good afternoon," a deep, masculine voice greeted.

Carefully, you turned your head to face the newcomer. Priest Seth bowed his head towards you. You answered him with a small smile.

What could _he_ want with _you_? He was impeccably clad as duty required of him, however, when he had closed the door behind him, he took off his headdress and placed it on a low table. He indeed looked just like the Seto Kaiba you'd known from school- passed him in the halls once, perhaps? He'd been in posters all over the city during the tournaments, anyway. This Priest Seth's hair was messier, but the eyes were all the same- a fascinating shade of blue, penetrant and intelligent.

It was not easy for him to talk to you- he walked to the window, looked out, looked over his shoulder at you, and sighed. You wondered what it could be that broke his composure in that manner.

He chose a weird way to start. "What do you remember of that night?" he asked, both of you knew precisely of which night he spoke.

"Not much," you said honestly, "That shadow creature…" memories came easily all of a sudden- the pain, the _unbearable_ pain.

"And pain," you stated.

He paced to your bedside, fetched a chair and sat, so that he could look you in the eyes. "I see," he said absent-mindedly, "So you don't remember anything."

You looked at him, puzzlement evident in the way your eyebrows lifted. "What do you mean…?"

You were vaguely aware that perhaps some sort of formality was due towards him, but the way in which he had come, his words and his stance didn't suggest he minded the informal treatment.

"How do you think you came out alive of it?" he asked, eyes fixed in yours- scanning them to find a truth or a lie; neither of which you could offer him.

You frowned. "I don't know… didn't think about it."

He let you think.

"The other nights, a bright flash of light made the shadows leave, and it healed us, too. But I don't know… I woke up, and I was like this… so I just assumed…"

"I see," he said again. His expression was serious, grave.

"Ra the sun God saved you two that time," he explained, and you wouldn't have believed him in other circumstances- but his voice was deep, his eyes were darkened. He was not making anything up.

"The Winged Dragon of Ra himself…"

Your mouth hung slightly open. "But how…?"

Priest Seth stared into your eyes; as if they could somehow tell him more than anything you could say. "I ask, have been asking, myself that very same question: how?"

You shook your head- "Did Malik _say_ that?" you suggested- but this time _he_ shook his head slowly, deliberately:

"I saw it myself." He felt the need to clarify: "Priests Shaada, Mahaado, Isis and I, we all saw him rise to destroy the Shadow Being. Such a power…"

You plunged into a world of memories- in your mind's eye you could see clearly Yami Malik's god card, the Winged Dragon of Ra, appear in the duels as he repeated the incantation… that incantation he had once forgotten- the very same you had dreamt about, back then when your life was normal and uneventful.

His next question, however, shocked you more than the earlier revelation: "Who is Malik?" he asked slowly, in a tone of voice that explained on itself the kind of answer the priest wanted.

But you were not sure it was an explanation you could give to him. Because you did not know much, did not infer much, did not feel it would be safe to reveal what little you knew. Again- you had that weird feeling of having to keep silence about Yami Malik, because… what if they chose not to associate themselves with something like him? What if they… killed him?

(How had he managed to call the Winged Dragon of Ra? Who was he, really?)

"Malik…" you said slowly… "He's a… strange person. We weren't… acquainted, back home…"

Priest Seth did then something that made your blood run cold.

He raised the Millennium Rod.

"This won't hurt you, Khemet. But I believe it will be easier for the both of us if you allow me to see for myself."

"W-wait," you said meekly, but the eye of Horus on the Item glowed a fearsome golden, and suddenly your thoughts whirlpooled, taking you everywhere and nowhere at the same time, in a colorful, vertiginous frenzy.

Suddenly you were back in the room, staring into Seth's eyes as if nothing had happened.

"What did you do?" you asked, a note of panic showing in your question.

"I looked into your mind," he explained nonchalantly, as if it were something everyone did on a regular basis.

You panicked, and out of the blue, all the cuts on your skin seemed to be pulsating.

The glow in the priest's eyes was unusual- furtive, calculating. "He's… a strange person," he finally said, "He used to wield the Millennium Rod."

You swallowed, and nodded. "Back in the present… yes. He had that card too… the Winged Dragon of Ra. No one but him seemed to be able to use it."

What use was there in concealing anything from Priest Seth now?. He'd just… stormed into your head and seen _everything_.

"An evil thing," he said with despise, "Yet he commanded such power. It makes no sense," he muttered to himself.

"He's changed a bit," you said, but how could you try to convince the Priest when you weren't convinced yourself? You had just been lucky- the palace, the priests, the circumstances, all had combined to protect you so far. But would they always? Could a time come, when he disposed of you finally?

He rose to his feet. He was so tall, so imposing. As he grabbed his headpiece and seemed to want to leave, a question wriggled its way out of your lips, and you didn't even have time to think about what you were going about to ask, implications, nothing.

"Is he in danger?"

The priest turned round to look at you: he took in your concerned look, your beaten body and pale face.

"You are messengers from the Gods," he only answered, and murmured something that sounded like, _Good afternoon_.

When he left, the room seemed bigger, your head spun, and a terrible feeling of void had settled in your chest.

.

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* * *

><p><strong>AN**

... in which it turns out that Priest Seth had a lot more free time than Kaiba. I mean, he gets to sneak out and ask around.

Know that I like Priest Seth very much.

... actually, I like all the priests (except the odd one out starting with 'A...'). But Seth and Shaada are special :)

Also, what on earth is going on with Yami Malik (other than boredom?)

Stay tuned! Suggestions are welcome! ;)

**Reviews make me remember that there actually are people still reading this story who appreciate it when I update. I mean it!**


	26. rituals of purification

_dedicated to ilovemanicures_

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><p><strong>26<strong>

**rituals of purification**

Yami Malik hated that he felt the dungeons not to be too unfamiliar. Of course, they were too similar to that accursed place he'd spent most of his life in.

He hated to feel he belonged there, but at the same time, it evoked a vague feeling of… safety? He was not sure. But he inwardly longed for the scorching midday sun blazing on his skin: he sneaked out of the underground vaults if he could, to linger in the open air if it only was for a couple of minutes- to breathe, greedily, the keen Egyptian air.

He didn't care that evil beings should not be fond of light: if he had ever thought of a prayer, it had been directed to the sun God.

He also knew, only… knew, that the bones in that very own body of his had been made of the eternal sands of the desert: only sand and Nilewater, and the forces of darkness to put everything together and conjure up a ward for his soul made of suffering and resentment. He might have then existed forever, but something akin to temptation had come his way; and he had not hesitated to take it- the gift of Ra. A life of his own, free from servitude to Zork Necrophades, the immortal consort of Apophis and forever ruler of the Shadow Realm.

Yami Malik sighed as he looked up to the black stone ceiling of the dungeons- it was not much he did down there; prisoners did not come on such a regular basis from the city because Atem's reign was a peaceful one. But he was in some way confined to the darkness again, now that he had finally been freed from it…

But freedom had come at a price, and though his memory of the Winged Dragon of Ra set him at ease, he could not ignore the way his new body was becoming a burden.

_It was meant as a vessel for the Necrophades' evil_, he thought with resentment, _But I answer to no one... and the shadow magic that created it is slowly fading_…

He scowled. He didn't want to imagine what would happen when it left him forever…

.

.

.

Isis came to him one morning: she told him she had a favor to ask of him. He followed her out of the main building of the palace, and together they walked in silence through lavish gardens.

"You have seen her, haven't you?" she asked at some point.

Yami Malik looked intently at her. "Her?"

"Khemet."

He kept silent, confirming her words.

"She's much better," Isis said, "The Gods have been good to her. The evil that took her was too strong- we priests couldn't have done much for her."

It was the first time he talked about the night of Zork Necrophades with someone. For well over two months, although his thoughts came back to it often, he had not spoken about it: the priests had not asked, and he had nothing to explain. He himself did not know much about the forces of the shadows, or how, why, Ra had answered to his call.

"You are a peculiar being, Dark Malik," Isis stated acridly: and for the first time, he felt the true extension of the powers of the Millennium Items.

_Dark Malik_… he sort of smiled. It had been so long since anyone had called him like that.

"A sliver of evil that's friends with Ra," he taunted, he smirked.

The Priestess of the Tauk's eyes were somewhere far away. "I believe you were given a second chance. By our great god Ra. Do _not_ laugh at it," she said severely, and Malik once again saw in her the woman that scolded his weaker side, when they both were kids.

.

.

.

He had not expected to be brought before the woman with the shaven head- the High Priestess of Hathor.

"She needs the exercise and the healthy air of Hapy, god of the Nile," she told him.

_She… Khemet… just what my life was lacking, _Yami Malik thought with sarcasm. He frowned and narrowed his eyes. His opinion was evident.

"You as well," Isis added, looking intently at him, "the air in the dungeons is evil miasma. Your lungs need purification."

He lifted both his eyebrows at her- again, his face didn't need much explanation. An amused smirk played on his lips, when the moment of disbelief had passed. He didn't mind their words, but he was not pleased with their implications.

"The young woman is not fit to go on her own," the High Priestess continued.

"Go with her," Isis said in a voice that would accept no excuses, and Yami Malik scowled again.

The priestess of the Tauk smiled at him serenely. "Of course, they will spare you from the dungeons this afternoon," she said.

He shrugged. "Fine, what_ever_," he conceded.

.

.

.

As he waited, under the pleasant shade of a group of palm-trees, he thought that he had not gone down to the Nile, not once since he had come to Egypt. He had, countless times, observed the waters from above- from the terraced western garden, or the many balconies of the palace that overlooked the valley. But he had been thinking a lot, in his many hours of solitude (which he didn't mind- he really did like being alone)- thoughts that had never occurred to him; _never_. He would think of the future, of the life he was leading; of places he would perhaps want to visit before returning to the present…

Yes, he would return to the present eventually. There was no way, not one he could think of, at least, to avoid that. Not if he wanted to live- which he found he did, something that had caught him off-guard. He'd always meant to exist, but to _live_? _That_ was new. And he would die, a time would come in which he would _die_; because he was in that unstable body: crafted out of shadows, desired by the shadows; and in Ancient Egypt, in that particular moment, the forces of the shadows were too strong, too influent, and they were bound to chase him until his bones became sand again, and the matter that was taken from them reunited with them finally.

He looked overhead, bright sunlight leaked past the broad leaves of the palm-trees and created shifting patterns on his tanned skin.

Since he'd arrived, his tan had darkened. He could almost pass for a local, if it had not been for his unusual hair color, and his lavender eyes, that hinted at something preternatural.

He guessed people walking inside the temple, he caught a glimpse of white-clad figures advancing slowly through a corridor lined at both sides with stone pillars. The High Priestess with her particular headdress, young girls, probably priestesses- and among them, a white-skinned person he, against his deepest wishes, could recognize _anywhere_.

His eyes trailed their way vaguely, and he absentmindedly played with a small dagger he carried around.

The afternoon sun was beginning its unhurried descent to the West when he stood up and nodded towards the High Priestess, who nodded at him in turn.

Almost two months had gone by since you'd saved his life, and your eyes crossed with his- your stomach _could_ have done something funny, you were not sure. It might have been just your surprise. They had _not_ told you he'd be there.

What you were sure of, was how… _inferior_ you felt at the moment. You were leaning against one of the young priestesses: you'd not healed yet, your cheeks were sunken, your skin was sickeningly pale, almost grayish.

You smiled crookedly.

"Hey, Malik…"

.

.

.

"What do you know of Hades and Persephone, Malik?"

He stared at you. "We're in Ancient _Egypt_…"

You laughed under your breath. So far, you had not succeeded in conversing with him.

He did absolutely nothing to hide how annoyed he was to have you leaning against him as you walked, (_"Haven't you considered a walking stick, my dear?" he'd asked you, viciously…_), and if you had to be frank, you wouldn't have chosen it for yourself either. When the High Priestess had talked of the Nile, you had been overcome with glee: open air, _movement, finally_!

And then… he'd been there.

They'd handed you over to the hangman: not the kind of rehab you would have expected. Besides…

You could not decipher him. You had not a stance taken towards him; all you knew, was that something in the grounds of the mystic connected you to him; and that you had an irrational fear of the guy nestled deep inside you. And you envied his tan- _where had that come from?_

His skin was as warm as you remembered it. The sun descended but felt still strong as you walked together down a narrow path of stone that went from the Temple of Hathor to the border of the palace grounds where, the priestesses had said, a broad dirt path went past the fertile farmlands and winded down to the Nile.

The place where your skin was in contact with his was moist; from the humidity that rose from the plants and the stagnant, hot air. You weren't too comfortable.

"What have you been doing, Malik?" you tried again, as your light sandals felt the change from stone to dirt, and tall palm-trees with clusters of bright-orange dates began to appear at the sides of the road.

You felt him slump his shoulders, and raise his left arm (the free one), to massage the back of his neck, and wipe off damp strands of hair. Away from the palace, you understood with your whole heart that many Egyptians shaved their heads.

"Wishing you dead," he answered without much conviction.

"Oh, the usual," you commented, sarcastically.

He _seemed_ to want to smirk, but he didn't get that far. The silence felt awkward, yes, but it was not unwelcome.

Where the farmland ended, a stretch of green grass covered the banks of the impressive river. A small step of grass led then to the calmly flowing waters.

"Sit there," he said, gesturing towards a rock semi-buried in the remarkably dark earth. The feeling of relief that took over you surprised you, and you looked up with gratitude at him: the walk had not been short, and you were exhausted, feeling the healing cuts pulsate against your skin- it was usually not much of a hindrance during the day, oh, but at _nighttime_. They responded to the darkness, as if something of Zork Necrophade's evil embrace still lingered in them.

When you sat, you noticed it was a discarded stone of the same kind of which the walls of the palace were made. It had probably been left behind when they disembarked them- a priestess of Hathor had told you those rocks were brought from quarries in the Upper Nile.

You saw him walk to the edge of the water and look beyond, to the horizon, to the pyramids. A mellow, pleasant silence lingered behind the sounds of nature- the lull of the running waters, the dozens of different caws and calls of riverside birds; and the soft wind on the palm-tree tops. The scent that wrapped around you was strong, lacustrine, but surprisingly fresh; even more so now that the sun was low and the heat was starting to dilute into the good river air. Looking at Yami Malik, you noticed that a small part of his intricate tattoo showed on his shoulder blades despite the sleeveless robe he wore. It made you curious, that tattoo of his- it didn't seem to fit his character of evil being to have such a thing _carved_ onto his back. Perhaps, one day you would know how he'd come to have it. Who knew.

.

.

.

The sun had already sunk behind the desert when you decided to go back to the Temple.

"Is it true?" you asked him as you took his arm, "Did you actually summon the _real_ Winged Dragon of Ra?"

You had been the whole afternoon itching to ask him. Though you were scared of him, you also admired him too much.. all that aura of mystic and arcane that surrounded him.

There was a note of worry in your voice when you went on, "Is that even _possible_? To summon… monsters?"

He turned violently towards you, his eyes viciously scanning your face. "It's not _monsters_ we're speaking of, you petty thing, Ra is a God, and _yes_, he was summoned."

You had never seen, _felt_ such anger oozing from him- he only limited himself to taunt and enjoy the fear he caused.

You recoiled, in fear and surprise, and tried to wriggle your arm away from his- he only pressed it against his side tighter, making your struggle futile. He _wanted_ you to confront him?

Gritting your teeth, overcoming the dread in your heart, you looked into his eyes.

"Then _explain_ it to me, Malik," you said, "Because if you did not notice, you owe me your life, _thrice_, and-"

"Ask me then," he hissed, and you no longer understood how or why such a terrible, foreboding tension was building between you- it slowly took hold of you, too.

Your tone of voice surprised even you, "Why are we alive!?" you cried, "How would you make a _god_ respond to _you_?" And another question span in your head- _why did I end up fucked up like that and you're all right?_

He read it from your face, anyway.

"_My_ power goes beyond this world," he spat, "The darkness, the Millennium Items, and the God Cards are timeless…"

"You are _not_ powerful," you said under your breath, with venom, not reasoning the words you spoke, "You could not even wake up as that… Necrophades drank _your heart_ out of you! You could not even _save_ us from it…!"

His face had been so close to yours all that time. Funny you did not notice it, not until he'd forcefully kissed you. You froze. Something electric passed between you, other than his anger, you knew that feeling: it was similar to what you had felt when you had touched the Millennium Rod for the first time.

His lips tore angrily, almost immediately, as if he himself could not believe what he had just done. _You_ certainly could not, and stared at him with eyes wild and heart beating madly. The damned son of a bitch…

He was also staring at you, face contorted in an irate grimace.

The way back to the palace was much faster, and much more silent.

.

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><p><strong>AN**

Well, hello guys. I liked the reviews I got so much that I felt really encouraged to post this chapter, which answers some things...

... and creates a ton of new questions, doesn't it?

Like always, feel free to ask me anything.

Thanks a lot to _ilovemanicures_, _lucyevans606_ and _yukiko nyx_ for the reviews.

This proves my point of 'if you review I feel like someone's actually reading this and I feel I must update faster' :)


	27. Khemet

_in dedication to winnie, iliovemanicures, and yukiko nyx; faithful readers_

_:)_

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><p><strong>27<strong>

**Khemet**

Since he kissed you, everything changed.

Of course, he did not show up again around the Temple of Hathor, and your hours of loneliness lying on the comfortable Egyptian mattress were spent in solving yet another incognita.

He had never felt like… human to you. It was strange that you should only now realize it, but not even when you knew that he was actually a human being just like you (not an evil presence in somebody else's mind), had you actually _considered_ him to be one: it was his aura, the way he looked, the way he spoke- if not hellish, maybe godlike, but never, _never_ human.

But since he'd kissed you… everything had changed. You saw him in a different perspective; and in your memories, you found you could remember him past the impressions he'd left on you- the clothes he wore, the way his long, bony arms flexed the well-toned muscles; the precise color of his surreal eyes.

Against your will, you remembered him often, even before going to sleep. Even if the priestesses had walked with you through the palace gardens to help you improve your health and that strained you beyond your expectations… you remembered him often, his lips against yours- the surge of electricity, of _power_ that had passed between you and him.

You blamed it on the idleness. But the images were not something you could easily chase away.

Many more nights passed until you returned to the chamber you once had half-shared with the blond Egyptian.

It was a bright, sunny morning when you found yourself looking again out of the window to the 'cursed' Western garden- it had been worked hard on, and they were slowly turning it into an Eden, like the rest of the gardens of the palace were… apparently, all they needed was to know that there was no actual _curse_ upon that garden or whatever. You shuddered.

Maybe there really was one, and you had become its pretty plaything. You shook your head. _Don't think that kind of stuff_, you mentally scolded yourself, _You may attract it and then, then it may even come true._

Isis had told you that, that night, the priests wanted you to have dinner with them. The cuts on your skin wouldn't scar, or so the priestesses had told you, but they still were thin marks that told a sinister tale.

Also, as you looked out to the sunny greenery, you wished you could be of use in the palace again. You were sick of lying around, doing nothing, and the happy plants outside motivated you.

The room was still. You smiled to yourself and went out to the garden through the window- it was only a small leap from the sill to the stone-tiled walkway that lined the palace walls.

A couple of slaves passed by, carrying gardening tools: to your far left, there was still some work to be done. You waved at them because you had worked with them those months before, and they waved back.

Soon, you were engaged in a pleasant conversation, and you offered to help them with trimming some orchids for the pharaoh's chamber- they were going to the greenhouses for that very purpose. You trailed after them, happy and lighthearted.

.

.

.

Mother Nut had barely begun to arch over the peaceful land of Egypt when you returned to the room. You'd stopped by the water-rooms to have a bath, as you had always done after a day of meddling around with plants, gravel and earth. It seemed like life was slowly coming back to normal for you: you'd changed into a light linen dress and felt fresh, clean and merry.

Also, the priests didn't cause such a feeling of stiff respect to you anymore- not most of them, at least. Isis and Shaada had only been kind to you, Mahaado's eyes showed only sympathy, and after that one strange visit Priest Seth had paid you, you'd known the human side of the man of cold eyes- no, he didn't make you anxious anymore either. Karim was a very busy man, he held the Millennium Scales, but he was also Head Scribe- he had a lot of work, and was hardly seen around. But all what you had heard about him made you suspect a very wise, magnanimous man.

Then there was Akhenaden… Your mind wasn't quite made up on him… maybe he was just old.

You were putting your right earring on when Yami Malik came into the room. _No_, you had not seen him since that day by the Nile.

From what you could see, he had also just taken a bath; but he looked… tired?

He wasn't pleased to see you; his eyes met yours as soon as he'd opened the door. You only stared back at him- none of you spoke.

He just walked over to his side of the room, and you heard him lie down on the bed.

_I wonder what's going on with him_, you thought.

.

.

.

The priests were kind and they didn't make you sit down near Yami Malik, who was also there, looking very blank, a dark area below his eyes hinted at sleepless nights. Also, they did not pry- they never asked a thing about what had transpired that night of the Winged Dragon of Ra.

You did not know who knew about it, anyway. If your eyes crossed with Priest Seth's, all the man showed was his usual distance. Isis was gentle, Mahaado and Shaada conversed animatedly with priest Karim, who was more or less the kind of person you'd imagined- silent and wise. Akhenaden arrived later, and had soon engaged Yami Malik in some conversation you could clearly see he was not too pleased to be having.

Another person joined you later: a man named Shimon, advisor to the Pharaoh, who also seemed to be on excellent terms with all of the priests. Mahaado explained to you that he had served as sorcerer to the previous pharaoh, Akhmenkhamen, Atem's father, but when he had died, had become devoted to teaching the young regent, thus abandoning his original profession.

At a moment, Karim asked you about the place you'd come from. Surprised, you'd taken a couple of seconds to assess the man: you hadn't been asked that question before, and you suddenly found it odd that you hadn't.

"Well, back where we came from," you started, trying to see how you'd explain the future in the 21st century to an Ancient Egyptian priest, "…there was a lot of people. Buildings are twenty times as high as buildings here… and magic…" You paused. You'd been about to say that magic did not exist, but then… that wouldn't have been _completely_ true. "Unless you're someone like Malik over there, you won't know magic exists," you explained to him, satisfied with your answer.

Shaada had turned round to listen to you, and Seth, well, of _course_ he was listening, but with an undecipherable look you knew meant that he was remembering what he'd seen inside your head.

"No magic? And how do you, for example, know what the weather will be like?" Karim asked, making you smile slightly.

"Well, in our time…"

As you were talking animatedly with the priests, you scarcely noticed the funny look Akhenaden gave you.

.

.

.

In the middle of the night, your eyes shot open. Though your mouth was dry, somehow, the taste of blood lingered on it.

Immediately, you saw Yami Malik was standing by your bedside. Little drops of perspiration ran along his chest, and his breathing was heavy. As if he'd just woken up from a terrible nightmare.

You were shaking- those images, that you had just seen dance maniacally around your head a couple of seconds ago… What in the name of goodness had that been?

Yami Malik's lavender eyes seemed… intense. A small candle flickered on your nighttable- it was not yours, but you did not pay attention to it.

You were panting heavily, soaked in cold sweat. However, your pillow felt, though wet, warm.

"My nights are bad already without you screaming me awake," he hissed, but you were not paying attention to his words, and he sat on the bed, next to you.

"The Eye," you said, eyes wild with terror and pain, "the Millennium Eye…".

It was true. You had seen it, but worst of all, you had _felt _it. Madly inspecting in your soul, looking everywhere, messing everything up. It was a sensation completely different from the Millennium Rod: you had felt the Rod as well, when Priest Seth had used it, but it had been a fast, controlled peek around your memories.

The Eye…

You were still trembling. It had somehow wormed its way into your head and sought everything and nothing and left it all in _chaos_.

"What did it want?" he asked with narrowed eyes, his voice being barely above a whisper told you it was very late and deep at night, "What was it looking for?"

You did not respond, but began sobbing.

He sounded threatening.

"_What did it want?_" he repeated.

You trembled, you wished you could stop trembling… "I don't know, Malik," you managed to say to him, "Gods… it was horrible…. It went everywhere…"

You felt so violated.

Yami Malik easily passed his arm under your waist and made you sit up. You didn't understand what he was doing, but the feeling of his skin, the soft warmth that radiated from him, set you at ease slightly.

His expression was unreadable as he inspected your… collarbones? He made you turn round, so that he was facing your back, and moved your hair out of the way.

When you innocently reached out to wipe the sweat from your neck, you discovered with horror that your hand was red with blood. You gasped in despair, and then gasped again when his calloused fingers brushed against the skin of the back of your neck, right below your hairline. It felt… strange, completely unpleasant. You shrunk your shoulders and pushed his hand off.

"What are you doing?" you asked him, torn between confusion and anxiety.

The look in his eyes puzzled you: he looked deep in thought.

"It's an incantation," he finally said, looking straight into your eyes void, without any perceivable malice or contempt, for once, just weariness: "An incantation that was left incomplete."

You saw him shrug, and then the inevitable scornful comment came- "What could anyone want from you, I can't _begin_ to guess," he said, and stood up.

"If you had not woke me up," you asked, voice quivering, "What would have happened to me?"

He looked out of the window, at the very starry sky. "I don't know. The incantation would be through," he shrugged again, "It's one life less I'm indebted to you," he said as he crossed back to his side of the room, taking with him the candle, and the room became dark again.

You curled into a ball and shut your eyes tight.

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Still shaken by the strange events of the previous night (why did the terrible, magical things happen at night? What kind of game was on play, that you'd never known of?), the next day you worked on the western garden as hard as you could, trying to focus on something pleasant, like the splendid ferns that had been brought from somewhere in the warmer Upper Egypt…

The magic of the priests was good. It helped the plants grow in the palace grounds, and everything looked happy and safe… Not all magic was bad.

You kept telling yourself that.

Not all magic was bad…

You stood up from your kneeling position by the shaded bed of ferns and started towards the greenhouses, but never got that far: you slammed against someone you, distracted, had not seen.

"Oh, forgive me," he said, before you had time to apologize, "I wasn't looking where I was going… I'm a bit absent-minded."

You cracked a smile. "Yeah, me too, no problem."

When you looked at him, you had to look twice.

_Impossible_…

You bowed down very low to him, and remained like that until you heard him chuckle.

"Stand up, girl," he said, amused.

You were very embarrassed before him, because all respect in the world was due to the Pharaoh of Egypt, the God Incarnate, but you honestly didn't quite know how to talk to royalty.

"I am very, very sorry," you said once and again, but he only looked at you… amused.

"It's okay," he said simply, his voice was even and manly- much like the voice of the _other_ Yugi, in the present. But it only made sense, they were the same person… Like Isis, like Seth and Seto.

"I was taking a look around the place," he confided, "Snuck out of the throne room, actually. Care to join me?"

You nodded briskly, but couldn't find your voice to answer him.

The sun, at that moment, would have been the god that Yami Malik had told you was named Khnum- the ox that pulled the solar disk to the West. A nice breeze came from the Nile.

Atem was easy to talk to, gentle and collected, and you had to confess you were enjoying the stroll you were taking.

He'd been actually surprised to know _you_ were Khemet.

"The priests have talked ages and ages about you and the man, Malik," he told you, "I was always very curious. I only hope you didn't hold it against me that I never came to meet you…"

You shook your head. "Why would I?" you asked honestly.

He smiled privately. "It's a terrible prophecy, the one that talked about your coming." He looked into your eyes: "Maybe I was scared," he said with a shrug.

You laughed quietly, "Not of us!" you said, but then thought it over, and added mentally, _Not of ME at least…_

"Of what will come to happen," he explained.

He needn't say anything else, though. Those words were ominous enough. The shadows shifted as the sun travelled across the sky, and silence took over as you kept on walking together.

"You _do_ know that your name means _Egypt_, right?" he asked out of the blue, changing topics completely.

You blinked and shook your head. No, not really- you didn't. How _come_ you didn't?

"It was my grandmother's name," you said, cluelessly, "I never gave it much thought…"

He laughed at that, heartily. "Yeah, it's the name we give to the good, black Earth that the Nile God gives us to live in."

You oh-ed.

"And then there's _Desheret_, that's the barren land beyond the pyramids… the desert."

He stared at you, apparently putting two and two together: "You didn't live in the Egypt of the future?" he asked.

You shook your head. "Not me, no… Malik did… I think."

He puzzled you by laughing again. "Well, fate works in really mysterious ways!" he exclaimed.

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Perched upon a high roof-top, a man observed the latent city. A still parade of candle-lights flickering in one window, in another window, many windows, eventually led to the magnificently illuminated royal palace. Although he was rather far from it, he could clearly distinguish the sentinel statues of the gods by its luxuriant main entrance.

He scowled at the lavishness, the ostentation. If everything went according to plan, he would probably strike soon... and he would see in pure delight the whole of the city burning to cinders.

"The darkness is hungry for your soul, Pharaoh," he said to the night air, knowing the winds would bring his words to the young man, and wriggle them into his dreams.

A devious grin played on lips of the man who called himself King of Thieves, and faded away with his silhouette, as he went from a rooftop to another, to finally get lost in the maze of narrow alleyways of the city below.

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><p><strong><em>AN:_**

There you have it, guys, finally: the plot.

Reactions? I'd love to know them!


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